


If the Sea Should Part

by Lil_Redhead



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: A gift for the lovely Alexis on the occassion of her birthday, F/M, If badass Anne and compassionate Gilbert are your thing this one is for you, last chapter + epilogue are up!, vague Little Mermaid AU, vague Once on This Island AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead/pseuds/Lil_Redhead
Summary: Anne finds herself caught up in whirl of romance and adventure after rescuing Dr. Gilbert Blythe from the sea during a storm. She should let him go, but when she finds out Billy Andrews is plotting to take Gilbert's life and estate, she realizes there's nothing that can keep her from protecting him.





	1. Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annewithab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annewithab/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a oneshot but spiraled completely out of control! Instead of posting a 25k word oneshot, I'll be splitting this into chapters and updating about every other day. The plot is inspired by the musical Once on This Island, so if you're familiar with that story, some of the elements will seem similar. 
> 
> Dedicated to my darling dearest Annewithab who had a birthday some time ago! Thank you for loving this story, Alex! You're my kindred spirit, my pal, and my biggest fan ♥ 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story!

The day it all began, Anne sat with her legs kicking over the ledge of a grassy cliffside, waiting for the clouds to roll in. She knew it was coming.

Anne was the only one on the island who did not fear the storms. They rolled in over the horizon with the vengeance of a thousand souls scorned, havoc following in the wake of their whirlwinds and gales. But Anne, who had been born in the midst of the torrent, knew better than to think that the hurricanes held complete power over human fate. Most of the treasures that the icy waves swallowed up were returned to the shore in the morning, where Anne would walk in hushed steps in the damp sand. She always wondered why Providence had blessed her with such fearlessness, but she knew it was there for a reason.

“Where do you suppose the ships go when they round the island?” Anne asked Diana, who sat a few feet back, scared of the dirt crumbling from underneath her if she sat too close to the ledge.

“Well, I suppose they dock at the North Blythe Harbor. Avonlea certainly doesn’t have a big enough port for vessels that grand,” Diana responded. She plucked strands of grass in her fingers, watching a cluster of merchant ships turn into dots at the horizon.

“I already know _that,_ ” Anne chided. “But don’t you think it’d be so much more _romantic_ if they were headed for a mermaid’s cove to beg for audience with the Siren Queen herself. And of course, she’d decline, because how could such unnoble creatures as human men dare enter her kingdom when-”

She held her breath as a pang of dread settled in her stomach, a warning like a sixth sense. Turning her chin to the clouds of gray and crimson, she realized the cause.

“Diana, I think we ought to go home. There’s a storm coming and your mother will be dreadful angry if we get caught in it.”

“It’s just a little bit of clouds. Nothing to get worked up over.”

Anne looked to the waves that crashed into silver with each blast of wind sweeping over them. It was true that she never feared the storms, but she also knew how to choose her battles, and they’d see this one grow into a war if they stayed.

“Either way, I’m positively starving. Tell me about your letter from Jerry while we walk back. I know you’ve been avoiding the subject, but I’ve been dying to hear all about your romantic endeavors. I shall have to live vicariously through you, even into my spinstering days,” Anne said dramatically, gathering their picnic belongings into her basket and heading homeward.

“Oh please. Any day now, some dark haired ideal is going to appear in Avonlea and sweep you off of your freckled feet.”

Anne snorted, about to retort, when there was a rumble from the skies - a final warning from the impending gall. She turned her face up, her cheeks catching the first few raindrops with small little _plops_. There was a moment as realization dawned on them both, which was just enough time for the drizzle to turn heavier and the monsoon to open up.

Diana shrieked, wrapping the picnic blanket around her head, and scurrying toward the road.

“Land sakes, Anne, I do hate when you’re right!”

Rain whipped through Anne’s hair, pulling free the styled strands so that it was blowing madly against the angry gusts. She felt the cold droplets hit her arms and legs as sharp as hail, then sprinted away from the cliff after Diana. Before she could travel too far, lightning crashed onto the waves, releasing a deafening roll of thunder along with it. Diana let out another shriek, but Anne stood in silence. She whipped her head back to stare wide-eyed at the shore, and horror filled her stomach.

One of the merchant ships was nearly overturned. Its sails battled the storm, flying every which way. Anne was sure the sailors were aboard, trying to keep her steady, but if they made one wrong move, it’d all be over.

“Anne, what are you doing? Come on!” Diana called over the wind, but Anne ignored it.

She did not fear the storm. She did not allow it to take control over her. This reckless mantra played in the background of her thoughts as she walked closer to the edge. Bringing a hand to shield her eyes, she could see how close the ship gotten to the shore. Too close for comfort, she assumed, judging by the shouts she could hear from the sailors as they cursed, bellowed orders, prayed their last prayers.

A force that Anne did not understand kept her at that cliffside, helplessly staring at the sight before her. A distant voice heard in her mind from far away whispered to her soul, _He’s there. He’s there!_ Struggling to stay standing against the building wind, Anne wanted to yell out, _Who!?_

Just then, the ship tipped dangerously to its side and a body went flying out into the water. Anne cried out in terror, suddenly feeling as if a weight had been dropped onto her heart. The man’s tiny head bobbed above the churning waters, arms reaching out to grab hold of something that wasn’t there. Time was running out, and she knew in every nerve and every bone in her body that this wasn’t supposed to be it for him. The sea could try to take what wasn’t hers, but Anne could try to take it back. He could be saved, she _knew_ it. She tossed the basket aside and began to dart for the far end of the cliff where she could slide down the sandy incline.

“Anne?” Diana called out. “What are you doing? _Anne, no!_ ”

But Anne could not be moved once her mind was set. She jumped over the side, thankful that her fall was cushioned by sand, and stumbled as fast as could down the moderate hill. Finally, she hit the ground, rocks digging into the palms of her hand as a blast of wind knocked her over. Once she was finally back on her feet, Anne stared, struck frozen at the tempest of salt water and rain before her. There was no way to penetrate through its walls. If the man had fallen into _this_ there was no way he’d survived this long, even if only a minute had gone by.

Fate was prepared to prove to her otherwise.

“ _Help!”_

Anne blanched. He didn’t even sound like a fully grown man. Someone her age? Bravery suddenly sparking her determination, she ran toward the sound. “ _Please, help!’_

She searched in a mess of waves for the man until finally she could see his head breaking through the surface of the sea and then plummeting back down. The waves had pulled him closer to the shore, almost within reach. Thankful she’d forgone a gown of heavy skirts for a simple white, cotton dress, she pulled off her shoes and dove into the water.

In later years, Anne would try to recall the memory of that moment - the agonizing seconds of floating in the heart of the ailing sea and reaching for a stranger’s tiring hand in the darkness of it. But all her mind allowed her was to recall distinct ache that came with swallowing saltwater and the strange icy coldness of the late summer sea. She did, however, remember the second she finally grabbed onto him. He’d stopped crying out by then, a listless body that had been flung toward her. Though her muscles ached and she had begun to wonder if she was crazy, she tugged the man toward her and kicked with all her might for the shore.

By some miracle, it worked. Anne grabbed the man by his underarms, heaving the brunt of his weight onto her shoulders and dragging him up onto the shore. She laid him there, heart anxiously beating as she waited for some sign of life. When none came, she pressed her ear onto his chest, but the cacophony of the storm muted any heartbeat the man had left.

Viciously wiping water from her face - rain, sea spray, tears - Anne felt herself crumbling. The man was all hard angles and soft pale skin. His face had lost color, but as she ran a finger across his cheek, she couldn’t help but think that he was... _beautiful._ A terrified sob escaped her lips at she pressed her fist down on his chest and leaned all her weight into it. She repeated it again and again, until _finally_ the sailor gave a hearty cough, sending salt water into the sand beside them. The water in his lungs was replaced with sweet air, and suddenly, he began to breathe once more. He was still bleary with unconsciousness, but she felt as though she’d start crying in relief.

“Oh, thank Providence,” Anne whimpered. By then, her teeth were chattering from being soaked in the wind, her eyes stung from staring into the rain, and she was ready to succumb to the blackness of exhaustion. But with a deep inhale, she mustered up the last of his strength, and dragged them both toward a little hollow cavity in the side of the cliff, big enough to sit in. Certainly sufficient enough for two people to take shelter from the storm.  She’d come there before to read and write, and now she thought it might just save their lives.

Just as the storm was beginning to rage its worst, Anne had secured them in the den, finally out of wind and rain. She leaned up against the wall, heaving a lifetime’s worth of relief and pulling the sailor so his back was leaning up against her chest. In the dark, it was difficult to assess the damage done to him, but for now, he was breathing and she was in one piece. Her lunatic plan had worked.

Whispering a prayer of thanks, Anne held onto the injured man for dear life and let her body lower from its adrenaline to the sweet darkness of exhaustion.

_* # * # *_

When Anne’s eyes fluttered open, the muscles in her back and shoulders felt like dried clay. The young man she’d saved was still in her arms pressed up against her, a tactic that seemed successful in shielding them both from the rain. Biting her lip against the crick in her neck, Anne looked out of the alcove and saw the beach was bathed in sunshine.

Just as she was about to come up with a plan for getting the man to safety, he turned and let out a pained groan. Anne shifted so that she could take a good look at him, still holding him in the safety of her arms. With the help of yellow sunlight, Anne could see how his hair had dried into a mess of curls as soft and wild as ravens. Streaks of dirt lined his cheeks, but his eyelashes were long and his lips were the color of roses. He had a few gashes that Anne hadn’t noticed the night before, one on his neck, another across his forehead, but both seemed to have scabbed well enough. Through a tear in his trousers, she noticed a sickly midnight colored bruise on his calf.

Then the man coughed, brows knitting together as he tried to pry open his eyes. They fluttered a few times before landing up her in dazed confusion. Anne felt her heart bend down toward him when she saw how blue, blue, blue his eyes were.

“I stand quite corrected. Sirens _are_ real,” he said in a quiet, raspy voice. Anne froze, suddenly wondering if he had hit his head on something during his fall. “You certainly live up to the legends.”

“I’m not a siren, but I’m flattered you think so,” Anne replied gently, cheeks hot. Before she could catch herself, she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, making him lean up a little into her touch. “My name is Anne. You took quite a fall from your ship. Do you ache terribly anywhere?”

“ _Anne_ ,” he muttered dreamily, as if his mind were in a different room. He tried to sit up, then hissed in pain. “I feel like I was hit by a steam engine.”

Anne steadied him so he was leaning against the stony wall of the little cave. He gave a small smile when her breath hit his cheeks and keep staring into her eyes as if to prove to himself that she wasn’t a hallucination.

“It was something like that. Do you remember anything? Who you are, what happened?” He closed his eyes to clear his mind, then nodded.

“My name is Gilbert. I was on _The Amaranth_ on our return voyage from Nova Scotia. We weren’t expecting any rain. My brother Sebastian was standing too close to the edge, and when I went to call him I guess I just…fell overboard.” He looked up suddenly. “How did _you_ find me? I thought I was done for.”

“I’ll try not to take offense at your tone, sir,” she said defensively.

“I’m sorry, I meant no offense. I only meant that I don’t expect _any_ person capable of surviving what you did. I’m grateful to be proven wrong.” Anne seemed appeased by this just a little and bit her lip to try to remember.

“I was sitting on the cliffside with a friend. When the storm hit, I had this feeling I should look out at the sea, and then I saw you.”

“So you simply jumped in after me?” he asked incredulously. Anne averted her eyes and grabbed a handful of sad, offering a small shrug.

“It certainly wasn’t _simple_ by any means of imagination, but I suppose it does sound rather foolish when you say it like that.”

He was silent for a few moments.

“Did you happen to see what happened to _The Amaranth?_ My brother was on that ship.”

“I...no, I guess I was just too focused on getting you to safety, I didn’t think to. I’m sorry.” Gilbert watched her wring her hands together, gaze turned away from him.

“Anne,” he grabbed her hand seriously, “you saved my life. I cannot thank you enough _._ ”

They stayed like that for a few moments, hand in hand, eyes fixed together so tightly that it might burn to look away. Anne suddenly felt her senses spiraling beyond her control, unable to reign back the butterflies in her stomach or the rose petals on her cheek.

“Well, we ought to see about getting taken care of. Where are you from?”

“Nearby the North Blythe Harbor, but I can send a telegraph to my brother. That is if he...” he shifted his leg and clenched his teeth. “I expect I’ll have a difficult time walking.”

“You’re in no condition to travel yet,” Anne warned. “I think your leg might be broken.”

“Oh, it’s broken alright,” he laughed bitterly. “The bone is broken clean through. I’m a doctor, so it isn’t the first I’ve seen.”

“You’re a...but I thought you were a sailor.”  

“And I thought _you_ were a siren, but things are apparently not as they appear.”

“Well, either way, we’re going to have to get you back home to Green Gables to take care of those wounds. Maybe you could walk me through how to bind your leg? I’ve experience in croup and colic, but broken bones are foreign territory to me.”

“But I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your family. Certainly your, uh, husband may not care for such company.”

“There’s no husband,” Anne rambled, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “It’s just my, uh, mother and a family friend. You’ll not be in a better hands, they practically invented hospitality.”  

“If you don’t mind my asking, where exactly _is_ Green Gables?”

“About a mile north of here, in Avonlea.”

“So I _am_ on the wrong side of the island,” Gilbert said with a slight groan. “I really do have to send a telegraph to my family. They’ll be sick with worry.”

“First things first, you need a warm meal and something for the pain. I don’t know how I’m going to get you up the cliff, though. It’s either that or take the long way around the shoreline-”

A violent cry broke onto the beach that sounded like the desperate cry of “ _Anne?_ Anne, _please_ , are you out here? _”_ The voice was familiar enough that she jolted to the side and stumbled out of the hollow. Her heart gave a relieved tug at the figure staggering down the beach in a frantic search.

“Jerry?” Anne yelled. Jerry’s head flung around to her, and the second he saw her, he let out a half-mad laugh of relief and ran forward. Anne caught him in her arms, and shook her head, her own laughter shaking her body.

“Are you crazy, _fille idiote?_ ” he murmured, pulling back and checking over her limbs for injuries. “When Diana came home and said what had happened...I’ve never seen Marilla so frightened. You’ve really got some nerve and you look like you’ve been-”

“I’m _fine_ , Jerry. I’ll tell you all about it later. But first, tell me, did you drive the carriage here?”

“Yes, but-”

“Good. There’s something I need your help with.”

Before Jerry could ask questions, Anne was grabbing his wrist and leading him over to where Gilbert still sat. The injured man was watching out of the small opening with apprehensive eyes, but his eyes softened when he saw her smile down at him. She wondered how she should explain the situation. _I jumped into a hurricane to save him and by some miracle, we made it?_ Maybe - _Isn’t this the most handsome man you’ve ever seen? He’s a_ doctor, _not a sailor. I saved him because I had an unearthly feeling I should._

Instead, she settled on, “This is Gilbert. He needs our help.” Jerry eyed Gilbert warily, but when he met Anne’s stern look, he nodded and got to work.

By the time Gilbert was back on his feet, Jerry was supporting him on the side of his uninjured leg and Anne was holding his other arm with gentle fingers. The bright sunshine of the beach caused him to squint, but as his vision cleared, his jaw dropped.

The beach looked like it had endured divine wrath, torn apart with wreckage littered in the dirty sand - broken logs, scrap wood, cracked conch shells, and dead fish. Gilbert turned pale as he realized that he should have been included in these ravaged remnants, and when he glanced down at Anne, she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Having been threatened by death didn’t seem to frighten her, though. Instead, she stood there like a victor does over his fallen prey and lifted her chin to the new day’s sun.

_• # • # •_

It was not easy to convince Mrs. Rachel Lynde to allow a strange man in their home. It had taken the combined effort of Anne, who had set her mind, and Marilla, who often sided with Anne when her heart was so assured. The noise of the encounter was enough that Gilbert certainly could hear it in Matthew’s old room, leg propped up against a pillow.

“Anne Shirley, of all the impetuous things y0u’ve ever done, this takes the cake!” Rachel scolded. “We know nothing of this doctor, and you know I don’t trust those Glen St. Mary folk.” She peered into her cup of tea with a sense of all-knowing righteousness that even the Almighty would’ve envied. Certainly whoever gave Mrs. Lynde authority over morality did not know what they were about, Anne thought bitterly.

“I saved a man’s _life,”_ Anne argued, standing by the kitchen table with her arms crossed. “It’s as I’ve said, Mrs. Lynde. His safety is now my responsibility until he is fit enough to move on his own again.”

“Doesn’t he have any people to come and receive him?”

“His _people_ were on that ship with him,” Anne said, dropping her voice in case Gilbert was listening. “I’m going into town to inquire about them in the morning, but as you can see, we’ve both been through quite a lot and I think it’s best if we rest.”

“Well, _I_ think it might be best if you-”

“Rachel,” Anne stated firmly. The woman silenced as Anne placed her hands on the table and leaned down to stare her straight in the eye. “It is your _duty_ to allow this man the safety of our home. If you’d like to argue with the teachings of your own Presbyterian upbringing, then that is a discussion you’ll have to take up with the Almighty. But the doctor is staying and that is final.”

With that, she lifted the tray of tea and biscuits from the table and turned toward Gilbert’s room. As she closed the door behind her, she heard an indignant “Well, I _never._ ”

The doctor was sitting up in bed waiting for her with an impressed look on his face. Anne herself couldn’t help but smile at his proud expression as she placed the tray down on Matthew’s old desk.

“You’re a force of nature, Miss Shirley. No wonder you jumped headfirst into a hurricane.”

Anne blushed.

“It wasn’t quite a hurricane, and I’ll have you know that I don’t make steady habit of tempting fate.” She turned to him and gave him a kind smile. “You’re looking a little better already. Some of the color is back in your cheeks. And I see you got into the clothes I left out for you alright.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to blush. He scratched behind his ear and looked down at the light quilt covering the bed.

“I changed into the shirt okay, but I couldn’t get the trousers over my leg.”

“That’s alright, Jerry will be by in the morning with the doctor to lend you a hand. For now, would it be alright if I gave you slight spongebath? I wouldn’t suggest it unless I thought it might help clean out some of your wounds. Of course, if you have any other suggestions, Doctor... ”

“Just call me Gilbert. I feel you’ve more than earned that right, and I’m not very particular,” he replied easily. “As for the spongebath, I think that’s an excellent idea.”

Anne worked in silence. Gilbert seemed surprised at how expertly and professionally she went about the cleansing, but he held his tongue. She was glad for this, reluctant to tell his stranger the details of her upbringing. He watched, stock still, as Anne unbuttoned the old shirt that had once belonged to Matthew.

“I am dreadfully sorry about this,” she muttered, showing a hint of embarrassment.

“Not at all, ma’am. I am aware of the necessary medical procedures.”

It was like clockwork. Anne would dip towel into the basin of clean water, run the steaming rag over his skin, and then apply a smooth bar of soap. She rinsed each section of skin with a tender touch, almost distracted. In the natural light of the room, Gilbert thought he could see the warmth of her cheeks that couldn’t hide behind her steadfast concentration.

“Tell me something about you,” he suggested playfully as Anne worked to clean dirt out of the hairs of his arms.

“Why should I?” she countered easily.

“I’d like to learn a little about the lovely woman who saved me. Nothing too incriminating, just an interesting fact or two.” A smile lifted her lips, one that Gilbert followed with transfixed eyes.

“I’m a published novelist and a college BA,” she said, with shy pride.

“Why, every moment I continue to be impressed by you. What school?”

“Redmond College. I graduated about three years ago.”

“What a small world! I graduated from Redmond only five years ago,” Gilbert said, somewhat amazed. “To think, you may have been in one of my large lecture classes and I didn’t realize I was sharing the hall with the Siren Queen.”

As the words left his lips, he couldn’t help wish he erase everything he’d just said. Talking with a lady - a beautiful, captivating lady - was apparently not one of his many skills. Anne took it in stride, though.

“I doubt that. You must’ve been a man of the sciences. I, however, kept myself as far from biology and chemistry as I could. You would’ve found me in the English lectures, analyzing sonnets and arguing with grown men over Sophocles.”

“I can only imagine. And your book, Anne! Have I read it?”

“Likely not. It was just a small little thing about living in a small town - the people here and their experiences. It rather makes me wonder that I didn’t take up psychoanalysis.”

“You’ll have to lend me a copy. I grew up a small town myself, with family in Alberta.”

“How did you end up on the island?”

A warm look passed over his face, shadowed with a residual grief and longing.

“My father was a traveler. But then he met my mother here on PEI and decided his traveling days were over. I believe her family was actually from Avonlea.”

Anne had begun to clean his hands, giving the space between his finger careful attention. He hissed against the burn of the small cuts that plagued his skin, but her kind touch distracted him against the sting.

“Now I understand why he would drop everything and pursue one woman,” he said distractedly. Anne’s eyes snapped up, but she was quick to busy herself with rinsing the rag out.

“I’ve given you my interesting fact. What of you? What are your fine accomplishments?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Gilbert blinked a few times, tensing uncomfortably.

It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to hide the truth about him, but it was so much easier to be “Just Gilbert” instead of who he really was - at least, here with her.

“There hasn’t been anything _particularly_ outstanding,” he said unconvincingly.

“You’re a _doctor_ , Gilbert. You mean to tell me in your entire life, there hasn’t been a single achievement?”

“There may have been a few,” he shrugged. “But I’m not a published author, and I haven’t rescued anyone from the sea recently.”

Anne let out a tired exclamation, and Gilbert raised his free hand in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I delivered a child when I was fifteen.” That news was enough to have Anne halt her ministrations completely and stare directly at him with wide eyes. “It’s what convinced me to become a doctor. That amongst...other things.”

“Well, that is indeed a feat!” Anne said, impressed. “How did you know what to do?”

“I watched someone deliver a baby calf once. As it turns out, the general mechanisms of labor are the same.”

Releasing a hearty laugh, Anne shook her head.

“I fear I must return the sentiment. The more I learn about you, sir, the more I am amazed.”

He certainly hoped so.  The feeling was more than mutual. As the minutes ticked by, Gilbert found himself free falling at every spare look, every touch, every word she spoke. He listened to her stories intently, a steady smile on his lips as she filled the room with imaginings and laughter. She was the most peculiar girl, one who had set her friend drunk when they were children and broken her ankle after falling off of a ridgepole. She’d inspired poetry in pupils and accidentally sold her neighbors cow. But, oh, she was intelligent and humble, rich in spirit and love. Gilbert had forgotten she was bathing him in water, but merely felt the warmth of a growing infatuation as steam around him.

She only quieted herself to clean his face, when she had to draw near enough to him that her breath was on his lips. Moving the cloth across his cheeks, she studied him the way she might study a constellation, marveled and struck.

“You’ve many freckles,” he commented lightly. This struck a chord in her that made the warmth in her eyes turn cold and hurt. She pulled back the cloth and placed it in her basin.

“I do believe all your wounds are clean,” she said formally. “At least above your waist. I’ll leave the doctor to examine the rest of you. I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

“Wait, Anne, _wait!”_ he said, frustrated. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my understanding that freckles were a bad thing. I quite like them.”

“It’s indelicate for a doctor to comment on a person’s looks, regardless of his preference.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I am still a novice doctor, so I thank you for your advice. But please, Anne, don’t be mad for keeps. If our conversation just now was any indication, I’d bet that you and I could be good chums.”

His efforts seemed to be futile, if her caustic eyes and narrow brow told him anything. Then she sat down beside him as prim and straight backed a finishing school youth and picked up her cloth again.

“I seem to have missed a spot on your face, Doctor.”

“Well, then by all means,” Gilbert began. She wiped the cloth over a smudge of dirt on his cheek, sucking in a sharp breath when he leaned ever so slightly into her touch. “Please continue.”


	2. Toxicant

The telegram arrived at the estate two days after the storm. Sebastian LaCroix, whose whole expression had been weighed down by a grief no one spoke to him about, had been sitting at the dinner table with his wife at opposite heads of the table. Neither of them had touched their food, appetites washed away with the storm. Around them, the boys bustled and chatted, unaware that anything was wrong. 

So when the servant came in to say that an urgent telegram had been delivered, addressed to Mr. Lacroix, Bash shot up from the table and hoped for the impossible. 

_ INJURED STOP STAYING GREEN GABLES AVONLEA STOP NEED TRANSPORT HOME STOP  _

Perhaps there was value in being an optimist, after all. 

* # * # *

Gilbert had grown to have a new appreciation for bedrest in the time he spent in Matthew Cuthbert’s old room. There wasn’t much to do when Anne wasn’t around, which filled a large portion of his day with silence as she often had to complete housework for Marilla. When she was gone, he’d stare at the pictures on the wall and count the days until he could make it home. Anne also lent Gilbert some of her book collection to read, and he’d made it through her prized copy of Jane Eyre in a single day. His heart ached for the outcasted orphan, who’d known only loneliness from birth. For some reason, reading the novel here in Green Gables made him feel it even stronger, but he couldn’t know why. 

He was lost in his thoughts when a knock came from the door. 

“Hello, Gil? I brought you some stew and some of Marilla’s currant wine for the pain.” Anne swept into the room like a breeze and placed the tray on his lap. 

“Thank you, Anne. I’d wither away without you,” he replied with a kind smile. There was something else there as he gazed upon her that made her flush and turn to pour him a small glass of wine. 

“Has your leg been hurting very terribly?” she questioned, examining with satisfaction his other wounds.  

“No, not with the doctor’s daily prescriptions. And of course, your cooking does wonders to soothe the soul.” 

She sat at the edge of his bed, wondering for a split second what it would be like to lean against his chest -  _ a traitorous thought indeed!  _ She thought about the small envelope she had sneakily placed on the table as she entered the room, and the title of its return sender. No doubt, the letter’s purpose was inform Gilbert that his family would be arriving for him presently and he could return back to his physician’s life and leave this poor country village behind him. 

Anne couldn’t imagine what life would look like once he was gone. In the week he’d been condemned to bedrest, everyone at Green Gables had gotten used to his presence. Even Mrs. Rachel Lynde had entered his room and listened to some tales of his youth, laughing so hard that Anne could hear her from the barn. 

“The Lord only chooses fine men as his physicians, I say! And Dr. Blythe is a fine physician, indeed!” Mrs. Lynde said, storming out of the room in a pleased tizzy. Anne looked up from her baking and offered a small smile.

It was the first time, she’d heard Gilbert’s last name. He hadn’t offered it to her before, but she couldn’t think as to why he’d keep a secret from her all this time. It  _ did  _ sound awful familiar, though. 

“Dr. Blythe,” Anne said carefully, feeling that she might address him properly now that she had all the missing parts of the name equation. Gilbert’s eyes snapped up to meet hers as he ate his stew. “You received a letter today from a Mr. Lacroix. That’s the man we sent the telegram to, is it not?” 

When Gilbert’s jaw dropped, she handed him the letter. Setting down his spoon, he held the letter up to his face to examine the handwriting. He turned himself away from Anne’s nervous eyes and hid his emotion behind a hand. 

“My brother,” he said, voice heavy. “He’s my brother. He must’ve survived that storm, thank Providence.” 

Anne waited in silence as he read over the full three pages of letter at least twice, pretending not to notice when a tear had formed in the corner of his lashes. He brushed them away carefully, beginning to eat his stew on the second readthrough. Finally, when he was finished, he folded the letter back up along its crease lines and placed it in the envelope. He looked at the beautiful redhead beside him, eyes bittersweet. 

“He’ll be here to collect me tomorrow,” he said gently. Anne processed this for a second. 

“And then you’ll go back home to the Glen?” 

Gilbert nodded. Some strange, untouched part of Anne cracked just then, like a glass that can’t handle boiling water. She rose to her feet with an abruptness that jolted the doctor, and ran her hands down the front of her skirt to flatten the fabric.

“I suppose there are preparations to be made if we’re to have more company. I look forward to meeting this brother of yours,” she said, unable to meet his eye. “Rest well, Dr. Blythe.” 

“Anne-”

“You’ll need to get some sleep if you’re to be traveling. I’ll check on you in the morning.” She headed as fast a steam engine toward the door, but paused before she could touch the handle. “Do you suppose Mr. Lacroix might like to stay for a meal before you head off?” 

She snuck a glance over her shoulder at Gilbert, who stared at her with what could only be seen as unadulterated admiration.

“If there’s anything I know about Bash, it’s that he loves to eat.” 

“Alright then, that sounds just fine.” 

Anne slipped through the door, letting it give a little  _ slam  _ as it clicked shut behind her. She found herself frozen for a brief second, the entire wooden door keeping her standing. A hand came to rest over the ache in her chest, and she closed her eyes before her own trail of tears could escape. After taking a silent, fortifying breath, she opened her eyes and found Marilla sitting at the dining room table watching her. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Anne said quietly, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and picked up the scrubbing brush. Marilla stood her ground as evenly as ever Anne knew she could.

“Anne, he doesn’t belong here in Avonlea.”

“I don’t suppose that’s for any of us to decide.” 

“That’s because it already  _ has  _ been decided. Don’t you know who he is?” Anne paused, fully cognizant of Marilla’s eyes on her back as tangible as humid air. She forced herself to release some of the pent up tension in her shoulders. 

“Of course I know who he is,” Anne replied adamantly, but she’d hadn’t been able to convince herself. Did she really know him? It  _ felt  _ like she did, like his soul and hers had been acquainted since their specks in the universe were first formed. He certainly wasn’t a stranger anymore, not with how much they spoke.

“The Glen needs their doctor. I am only glad that I could play a part in helping him,” Anne stated in admission. “Mr. Sebastian LaCroix will be here tomorrow to collect him. I’ll be inviting him for an early supper. After that, things will return to their normalcy.” 

Marilla said nothing more. Anne dried her hands on her apron and left the older woman sitting under the shadows of the candlelight, remembering her own days of first love and regret. 

* # * # *

She wanted it to feel like home when he left, so she left daisies around the house in thin vases and opened the windows to let in the fresh, warm air. Jerry had come by the day earlier to drop off the crutch he had fashioned saying, “It’ll be good enough until he gets home and finds a real one.” Anne accomplished much in the time that they waited for Mr. Lacroix, busying her hands by any means necessary to distract her mind. But when she looked out over the Green Gables dining room, with its dustless surfaces, freshly baked bread, and perfectly set table, she wondered if maybe she should have spent that time with Gilbert. 

“Anne?” a voice called from the inside Matthews room. Clutching her hands at her sides, she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

“Yes, Gil?” 

Her heart caught in her throat as she looked at him, a cleaner version of the man she had fished up from the hurricane. To her astonishment, he was even standing without her help. He was dressed back in his sailor’s clothes, freshly cleaned and pressed. Mrs. Lynde had mended the gash on the leg of his trousers with such expertise that they looked practically new. He’d managed to comb his hair and wash his face, even with the bindings of his injured leg making it inconvenient, and Anne couldn’t help but feel as if he was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“You...you’re looking rather well,” she said formally. 

“I could say the same of you. You’re radiant,” he replied, matching her tone. He latched onto the rosy pink that ascended her cheeks, wishing he could make her blush all day long. 

“You called?” she said after a moment of rather intimate silence.

“Oh! Well, I wondered if I might wait for Bash out in the dining room for a change of scenery. It’d be wise for me to stretch my legs a little bit before traveling home.”

“Far be it from me to tell you where you can and cannot roam when you’re my guest. Did you need some assistance?” 

“No, thank you, but I would care for some company.” 

He moved in slow jilted steps, hobbling on the mahogany colored crutch with as much precision as he might were he performing surgery. An ocean breeze swept through the home, carrying with it the faint scent of daisies and freshly baked bread. Gilbert swayed as it grazed across his face, grinning in the victory of standing upright. 

“May I be forthright with you for a moment,” he said quietly to Anne, who stood only a few breaths behind him. 

“Of course,” her voice came quietly. He turned to her and interlocked their hands at the fingertips.

“If I could have all of my wishes fulfilled, I’d stay here in this beautiful country house forever with you.” 

Anne felt a shock of electricity run through her that made her practically melt into the floor. Gilbert’s hand slid up so that their palms laid flat against each other’s - soft skin against a doctor’s touch, reverence meeting bravery. Taking a step out of his own world and entering hers, he closed their fingers together so that he was holding her hand. Each small risk he took, he wanted to take more. He gave a small tug forward and pulled her closer so that her oxygen was his. The natural gravitation between them took its place and Anne wondered if he might kiss her.

A knock came at the door, causing them both to look up. Anne tore her hand away from Gilbert’s, shuffling toward the door. She took a deep breath, acutely aware of Gilbert’s eyes on her back, then pulled open the door. 

You would not have thought at first sight that Sebastian LaCroix was Gilbert’s brother. He was everything Gilbert was not - strong frame, facial hair, dark dusky skin. But then as Anne looked closer, she could see parts of Bash’s soul that were made of the same stuff as Gilbert’s, the things that made them the same. 

“Hello sir, I presume you are Mr. LaCroix?” 

The man did not know what to think about the thin red headed woman before him, with the eyes that were wild and mourning, gray and human. He removed his hat and pulled it to his chest, smiling in a practiced way that reminded Anne of Diana’s wealthy family. All practiced propriety fell aside when he caught eyes with the injured man behind her, and his cheeks widened into a grin. 

“Gilbert Blythe, I ought to strangle you,” he said with an accent that Anne had never heard before. He breezed right past her and caught Gilbert in a fond embrace.

“If it’s just the same to you, I think I’ve had enough near death experiences for a lifetime,” Gilbert replied with a laugh. 

“You’re telling me. I don’t think I ever want to go on a boat anywhere again.” 

Gilbert started, remembering something.

“How’s the boat? The crew?” he asked, grabbing Bash’s shoulder with a frantic grasp. 

“Relax, Blythe, everyone is fine. They were worried sick about you until we got your message.” Bash looked like he might say more, but turned his face down to the floor and swallowed hard. “We thought we lost you, Gilbert.” 

“I know,” the good doctor replied. A tender expression came over his face. “But Anne saved me. She’s been taking care of me all this time.” 

Bash swung around and caught eyes with the wild-wallflower standing across the room. Her hands were clenched at her sides, face forcefully neutral.  

“I apologize, Miss Anne, it seems manners flew right out of my head. I  _ am  _ Sebastian LaCroix and I am indebted to you for saving my brother.”

“Not at all,” Anne said in a quiet, polite tone. “His presence in this house has been very welcomed. It makes me wish that the Avonlea doctor was such good company.” 

Bash laughed at this, but took a few steps forward so that he might hold Anne’s hands in his. 

“Truly ma’am, on behalf of our family and forty-three boys, thank you. I hope you will think of a way that we can compensate-” 

“Wait, forty-three boys?” Anne asked, forgetting her manners to send a confused look to Gilbert. How could there possibly be forty-three boys in a single house,  _ plus  _ all of Gilbert’s family?

“Uh oh,” Bash murmured. “You didn’t tell her.” 

“Tell me what?” Anne hissed sharply. Gilbert gaped for a second, searching for words. “Tell me  _ what,  _ Dr. Blythe?” 

“It’s not  _ bad,  _ Anne!” Gilbert defended. “It’s just that  _ everyone  _ knows it at the Glen and for once it was nice to be just Gilbert for a while. Not…” He sighed. 

Anne watched the turmoil raging inside him, so she softened her accusatory glare and bit the inside of her cheek.

“Why don’t we sit down for supper and you can tell me? Mr. LaCroix, are you hungry?” 

“Always, Miss Anne,” Bash replied with a chuckle. 

Neither Anne nor Gilbert seemed hungry enough to eat the chicken and vegetables that sat on their plates. Bash, however, was completely unaffected by the awkward atmosphere. The nervous glances cast across the table were no more than dinner entertainment to him, of which he was very much amused. 

Finally, Anne said, “A man is allowed his secrets, especially from a stranger. If you lied to me, I can hardly fault you.” 

“You’re not a stranger,” Gilbert insisted, choking back some of his growing affection to keep from overwhelming her. “And I didn’t lie to you. I merely omitted what you’ll likely consider important truths.” 

“Is that all?” she murmured to herself, taking a bite of salted potatoes. Gilbert sighed and set down his fork.

“What do you know of the North Blythe Harbor?” he asked steadily. 

“It’s the main port of the island,” Anne answered easily. “Even Avonlea uses the North Harbor for exports.” 

“I own that harbor,” Gilbert stated. 

Anne’s face went ashen. The connection hadn’t even occurred to her, but even if it had, how was she to suspect that this sailor of a doctor  _ owned  _ an entire harbor. Suddenly, she scrambled through her brain for any information about the Blythes she could think of, but she’d never cared before now. 

“It was my father’s, passed down to him by a gentleman he once saved while they were on a voyage to England,” he continued. “He passed away a few years ago, leaving me with his business even  _ after  _ I became the Glen’s doctor. I didn’t want to quit my position, but suddenly found myself with more money and responsibility than I knew what to do with.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I had no idea,” said Anne, feeling like a fool. “You’ve likely thought me rather asinine.” 

“Not at all! I’m not…” His jaw tightened. “I’m not your average wealthy man. I have fully appreciated being simple, country Dr. Blythe these past weeks. Your companionship has been invaluable to me. And no more of this sir and Dr. Blythe nonsense, please.” 

At this, Bash cocked an eyebrow, noticing the matching blushes on their faces. 

“And the forty boys?” Anne asked. 

“Forty-three,” Gilbert corrected cautiously. “After my father passed away, I really did find myself with more wealth than I thought was possible and I didn’t need most of it. At first, I began making regular donations to the Boy’s Orphan Asylum in Charlottetown, but it didn’t seem like enough. I made some renovations to my...estate and took in forty of the boys who have been there the longest. They live on my property and are well taken care of. My family is rather close with them now.” 

Anne hadn’t noticed her eyes beginning to water, but when one of her tears fell onto her plate, Bash leaned over. 

“Anne, you’re crying on the potatoes.”

With a sniveling gasp, she quickly wiped her eyes and gave a shy chuckle. 

“I think you’re quite forgiven, Gilbert. I wish you would’ve just told me, though. Perhaps I would’ve been nicer to you.” 

“Nicer than saving my life and nursing me back to health?” Gilbert grinned. “I didn’t take on the boys for the praise, though. People I do business with tend to hold strong judgments, so I don’t often play the orphan card.” 

Anne gave him a small, watery smile. 

“Neither do I.” 

It was then that Gilbert understood the meaning behind Anne’s tears. He reached across the table, grabbed her hand, and gave it a small squeeze. Anne herself began to wonder if maybe that was why she’d been made to save his life on that stormy day - so that he might save more orphan lives, love them and care for them the way that the Cuthberts had done for her.

“Funny how Providence works, huh?” he murmured. Anne shook their hands a little bit, then pulled back to grab her fork.

“Well, with that out of the way, I want to hear all about how this lily of a woman managed to pull your sorry behind out of a storm like that,” Bash laughed.

Anne looked at Gilbert expectantly, but he shook his head. 

“You’re a far better storyteller than I, Anne. I’d hate to butcher a heroic tale.” 

They sat there together, three kindred souls opening up and retelling miraculous tales until the mid afternoon sun had seeped in through the window to warm Bash’s neck. He placed his napkin on the table and gave Gilbert a look that spoke volumes. Anne caught it and felt her heart twinge with a queer, little ache. 

“If you’re to make it back to the Glen at a reasonable hour, you should probably head off,” she sighed. “It’s been a rare pleasure to have you in my company. I know Marilla will be sad that she missed you.” 

“Please extend my sincere and deepest gratitude that she opened her home to this injured doctor,” Gilbert said, rising from his seat. Anne handed him his crutch before he could ask for it, their fingers grazing in the exchange. 

“I’ll go bring around the wagon,” Bash said, eyes shifting from Gilbert to Anne with a sly smile. Then he turned to the blushing Anne and offered her a warm smile. “Truly, thank you for everything, Queen Anne. Come to the estate sometime, we’d love to have you as our guest. Wouldn’t we, Blythe?” 

“Absolutely!” Gilbert replied with no hesitation. “In fact, I’d be honored if you did come sometime. Bring Miss Cuthbert and Mrs. Lynde.” 

“I’ll extend the invitation,” Anne said with a nod. “Safe travels, Bash.” 

Once the man had left the kitchen, Anne was suddenly aware that she was breathing in all of Gilbert - his air, his aura, his soul. It had somehow drawn her nearer to him and she found herself close enough to see the two midnight freckles on his cheek and the small healing scratches on his forehead from the storm. 

Neither knew what to say, so they just stood there in the afternoon light wishing that they didn’t come from such different worlds. Maybe in another life, Gilbert was an island boy here in Avonlea, tormenting her life out until eventually he could woo her into noticing how truly, adamantly he- 

“ _ Hurry along  _ Blythe!” Bash called from outside. “Haven’t got all day.” 

Anne started, hurriedly handing Gilbert one of Matthew’s old hats and jackets. She had just opened her mouth to say goodbye when he took a daring step forward, fixed his eyes on hers, and said, “You are amazing, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. I hope you know.” 

Her reply was caught in her throat and instead she just offered him a tight, teary smile. 

He leaned down, pressed a kiss on her cheek, and was gone, leaving Anne standing in the kitchen wondering just why she couldn’t stop crying.

* # * # *

If Anne knew Gilbert to be the very best of men, then William Andrews - or Billy, as he was known in his school days - was positively the worst. Ever since she had arrived in Avonlea at the tender age of eleven, Billy Andrews had done everything in his power to make her miserable. He’d treated her like a dog under his shoe, torn down her childhood playhouse board by board, and spread rumors that she had been a filthy strumpet on a verge of being married out of wedlock. Every bone in her body despised him, and when they would eventually lay in the ground after she was gone, that hatred would still be there, grown up in poison ivy. 

But Billy had sealed his fate that humid day in Avonlea as she walked behind Billy and Charlie Sloane on their way to the store. 

“How do you even know the Blythes?” Charlie had asked. Anne’s ears perked up and she quicked her pace so that she might listen a little better. 

“Gil’s father and mine were friends when the Blythes lived in Avonlea. Wasn’t long, but long enough that John put me next in line for the harbor.” 

“It’s a shame that Dr. Blythe decided to work the harbor  _ and  _ keep up his practice, otherwise that could’ve been you in that big house.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy spat bitterly. “Look, I’m not worried about it. Blythe can try all he wants to keep up the harbor with those ugly orphan kids and that colored family, but by the end of the year, it’ll be mine. My plan is all set.” 

Plan? A sickening feeling settled in her gut, but she kept her face neutral in case one of the boys turned back. 

“What’re you going to do?”

“Let’s just say rifles and new doctors are easy to come by,” Billy sneered.

Anne’s feet came to a halt. She stared at them as they walked away, consumed with their laughter and malicious plans. Was Billy  _ really  _ planning to..? She couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t just all bark and no bite this time, but he’d been so unpredictable in the past. It was hard to know which of his many threats he’d make good on. 

She couldn’t take the chance. She had to find Gilbert and tell him. Even if he didn’t believe her, she had to warn him and try her best.

 

That night at Green Gables, Anne found herself in another face off with Mrs. Lynde, this time with Marilla on the opposing side. 

“Now listen, Anne, you’ve been reading a lot of books on heroic people and I admire your tendency toward saving people but this is something you ought not meddle in,” Marilla warned. 

“Billy is planning on  _ killing  _ Gilbert! Someone has to tell him!” Anne retaliated.

“You likely just misinterpreted what you heard! Billy Andrews was a troubled child but that doesn’t mean he’s grown to be a murderer,” Rachel chimed in. 

“I’m not sitting by and letting him get away with this. If something happens to Gilbert, it’ll be on  _ my  _ hands. I’m packing my things and leaving for the Glen tonight.” 

“You will  _ not, _ ” Marilla warned, but the days of Miss Cuthbert rearing Anne Shirley were long over.

“I am a grown woman!” Anne exploded. “I will not be treated like a child in my own home.” 

“You’re living under my roof, you will abide by my rules, and no mistake!” Marilla said, raising her voice to meet Anne’s. 

“Then I won’t live here anymore! Not until I know Gilbert will be okay.” 

Marilla’s face turned as gray as the wall behind her, the betrayal evident in the hardening lines of her jaw. Rachel Lynde had gone silent, staring at the Green Gables women as if they were pipes bombs seconds away from detonating. 

“You’d  _ leave _ Green Gables for a man you knew two weeks? Anne, I’ve never known you to be imprudent. If you think you love him, then you’re only-” 

_ "Stop, _ ” Anne cried out on a sob. “I’m leaving because it’s the right thing to do. I’m packing my carpet bag, and I’m leaving.” 

Marilla straightened her back and looked at Anne with tired, aged eyes. 

“I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you. But when you’ve gotten your heart broken, your room will be waiting for you collecting dust.” 

Anne covered her mouth to shield against a sob, then spun off to her gable room. She swore when she began living at this house that she’d never hurt Marilla knowingly, but she didn’t expect for this to happen. How could she? 

Angrily shoving clothes and toiletries into her old carpet bag, she remembered Matthew. He would’ve let her go. He would’ve known she  _ had  _ to do this.  

Sparing a glance at her pocket watch, Anne heaved a sigh of relief. If she left now, she’d make the last train of the night to Glen St. Mary. It’d be a long trip to make with no feasible plan. She didn’t even know where the Blythe Estate was. Surely there would be people who could help her. 

It was settled. Anne marched down the stairs, determined resolve and carpet bag steady in her grasp. She looked at the two Avonlea women, matron and spinster as dark as if they were in mourning, and placed one of the marigolds from her room on the dining room table. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can. I love you both dearly and I’m sorry.” 

Neither said anything, so Anne turned and crossed into the starry, humid night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you wanna chat, I'm on tumblr - @royalcordelia ♥


	3. Daybreak

Anne wasn’t sure if it was her wretched parting from Green Gables or the rumbling train that made her feel sick on the way to the Glen. She leaned her head against the window and let the cold pane cool her forehead. Eventually, the rhythm of the train was enough to lull her to sleep - eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching her bag. 

She woke the next morning right at the early dawn, bleary and exhausted as if she hadn’t slept at all. Taking nervous steps onto the railway platform, Anne looked out over the Glen. The last time she’d been in a place so foreign, she’d come to Avonlea for the first time, a sparkling-eyed, hopeful child. Now, there was no promise of Matthew Cuthbert and home. She only had herself on this unfamiliar corner of her island.

The landscape was a picture of green delight. Thin fog rose from the warm ground, lilting like songs around the trees bathing in yellow morning sun. The hills bore billowing patches of crops and wildflowers. A faint breeze carried with it the salty spray, rolling the sunrise laden clouds above her head. Clutching her carpet bag just the right way, Anne set off.

It wasn’t as hard to find the Blythe estate as she thought. It took only asking one polite passerby with just enough panicked desperation and she was pointed in the right direction.

Relief ran through her when she finally arrived. By then, her legs were tired, her eyes were red from exhaustion, and her hand was cramping from holding onto her bag so tightly. The soles of her feet made her want to saw off her entire foot and she was in desperate need of something to drink. She nearly cried in relief when she saw a large brick fence with a plaque across the front that read: _J._ _Blythe Estate_. 

The main entrance waited for her at the end of a driveway high on a hill covered with trees. A grand front door that was right out of Anne’s best imaginations waited for her, though the entirety of the house was just as lovely - cream colored bricks, dozens of windows and towers, ivy growing up the sides. The rest of the property was blocked off by the fence, tall enough that she couldn’t quite see what was hiding behind it. 

Taking a deep breath, Anne moved up the steps, heels echoing off of the high ceiling of the porch. She rose her hand to the door knocker and banged it thrice. The door swung open almost immediately and an aged man in a black suit stood, eyeing Anne warily. 

“May I help you?” his baritone voice boomed. 

“Good day sir,” Anne greeted as evenly as she could. “I was wondering if I might speak with Dr. Blythe.” 

“The doctor is out on his calls. Are you in a medical emergency?” 

Anne blinked. Did she  _ appear  _ as though she was in a medical emergency?

“Well no, but it’s quite urgent-” 

“Miss,” the man interrupted. “Dr. Blythe is an incredibly busy man. If his medical services are required, then you may place an appointment like everyone else. Otherwise, I’m afraid I cannot help you.” 

He moved to shut the door, but Anne caught a flash of someone passing by in the background. 

“Bash!” she cried out. Bash poked leaned back at the sound coming from his front door, only to be lit up at the sight of her. He looked much the same as he did the day he visited Green Gables, but something about his demeanor was much more businesslike. 

“Queen Anne!” he delighted. He walked up and placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder, who eyed Anne with hearty suspicion. His eyes seemed to say  _\- Queen?_ “Mr. Laurent, this woman is an honored guest of Dr. Blythe’s. Please, if you would accept her as such.” 

“Of course, sir. Right away, sir.” 

Anne was ushered in, bag taken out of her hands before she could say  _ Careful, the seam in the corner is loose and if you don’t hold it just the right way - _

“Miss Shirley Cuthbert, to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?” Bash asked. She must’ve appeared as though she were on the verge of collapse, because his face suddenly turned downward. He gently took Anne by the elbow and ushered her into the sitting room just off of the main hall. “Come, let’s sit you down.” 

Anne peered around, admiring the lush room with the eyes of a dreamer. The Blythes had lined many of the walls with bookcases and filled them so tightly with texts that Anne wondered how they didn’t collapse. It was everything the storybooks had described about wealth, everything she’d dreamed in the dimmest days of her childhood. 

“I know, I thought the same thing when I first came to live here,” Bash said. “It takes some getting used to, but when you come from where I did, it’s a nice change.” 

Anne smiled sheepishly into her lap, wringing her hands nervously. 

“I’m sorry to drop in unexpected. I promise had it not been urgent, I would’ve written.” 

“You know you’re welcome here any time. Are you in trouble?” Bash asked, leaning forward. 

“No!” Anne said quickly. It must’ve been how it looked, receiving her unexpectedly in a disheveled state of distress. “No, I’m not in any trouble. But I do need to speak with Gilbert. When does he return from his calls?” 

“It’s hard to say. Sometimes he arrives home in the early afternoon, sometimes not until the middle of the night. What’s the matter, Anne?” 

Anne wondered if she ought to get it out of the way and just tell Bash what she’d heard, but before she could, a woman burst into the room with a sheepish young boy at her side. 

“Bash baby, I’m leaving this boy in your hands so you can deal with him. Keep him out of the kitchen,” she said in a warning tone. “Paul, you’ll listen to Mr. LaCroix or you won’t be allowed in the main house. That clear?” 

Anne stared in awe at the woman and the strength of her fiery eyes. She clearly meant business, hip popped and brow cocked as if she was daring someone to go against her. It reminded her of her Avonlea schoolmarm days, but she hadn’t been nearly so compelling as this woman. 

“Yes, Mrs. Lacroix,” Paul murmured ashamed. Anne recognized the woman as Mary, Bash’s wife, from Gilbert’s stories. She certainly lived up to his high praise of her. 

When Mary was out of earthshot, Paul turned to Bash and all but fell to his knees to prostrate. 

“Bash, I promise I just wanted someone quiet to write and the other boys are  _ everywhere! _ And I can’t get poetry written if they’re looking over my shoulder, but they always do and I just thought that the kitchen has a few little nooks where I could write.” 

This boy, Anne appraised, seemed to be kindred as well. 

“Paul, we’ve been over this,” Bash said patiently. “If you go in there when the ladies are cooking, you could get burned or stepped on or worse. Dr. Blythe doesn’t want you hiding where you can get hurt.” 

“Dr. Blythe doesn’t understand!” Paul argued. 

“Mr. Irving.” Bash’s tone had changed at the drop of a hat. “My word is final. You mean to tell me that in this entire property, you cannot find one spot to write in?” 

Paul shifted his weight, red faced and frustrated. His eyes glanced over at the lady sitting the chair watching him with amusement, and some of the annoyance dissipated.

“I’ll look again.” 

He stomped off, tossing Anne a little glance of sparked interest as he passed her. 

“Sometimes I wonder what Gil was about when he wanted to take on the harbor, his medical practice,  _ and  _ these boys,” Bash sighed.

“If I may ask, how does that work?” Anne asked. Bash rose a brow, so she stumbled to clarify. “Well, I just mean, if you’re the business director of the harbor, and Gilbert is the Glen doctor, then who educates the boys?” 

“We haven’t found someone to educate them quite yet. Gilbert was waiting to find someone trustworthy out of Queens, but each candidate refuses to either associate with the boys or associate with me.” He paused. “Or both.” 

“But if you could find someone, you’d hire them?” Anne said carefully. 

“Of course. We’ve been anxious to educate these boys so they’re not completely hopeless when they go off into the real world.” 

“I know the feeling,” she murmured, remembering how far behind she’d been when she first began school. “You know, Bash,  _ I’m  _ a schoolteacher. I used to have the Avonlea school. I taught there for quite some time before the board decided to give it to someone who wanted to save money to attend Redmond.” 

“Is that why you came? For a job?” Bash asked, but he didn’t seem irritated or offended at the prospect. In fact, he seemed interested.

“No, I really do need to speak with Gilbert,” Anne answered. “But I packed everything I owned in that carpet bag of mine and decided to take some time away from home for a while. If you need someone to educate the boys, I’d be more than happy to. I love teaching.” 

“That...that actually sounds like it would work quite nicely. You’re sure you won’t mind working with orphan children? They can be quite a handful.” 

“Oh, trust me, I’ve all the experience I need and then some.” 

“I’ll have to discuss it with Gilbert, but I don’t think he’ll have any arguments.”

She might’ve said something, but Anne’s heart tugged the way it did when she felt him before she saw him. Gilbert was home.

“I’m always in the mood for a good debate, Bash. What are we arguing?” he said, sweeping into the room and rolling down the sleeves at his elbows. When he met eyes with Anne, his face turned into liquid sunlight, appearing so happy he might burst. 

“Anne,” he murmured, dazed with happiness. 

“I doubt you’ll want to argue with me on this one, chief. Queen Anne is a very qualified, very accepting, very  _ lovely _ schoolteacher. Perfect for one house of boys, no?” 

Gilbert laughed, shaking his head to make sense of Bash's implication. 

“So many surprises at once! Hello, Anne. You are a sight for very sore eyes.” He reached for her hand, kissing it gently when she offered it. “I didn’t know you were a schoolteacher. I thought you went to Redmond for English.” 

“Yes, after attending Queen’s Academy for teaching,” she explained. “Oh, Gil, all that can wait. There is something I simply  _ must  _ discuss with you.” 

Sensing the impending importance of her news, Gilbert glanced around at the busy house and nodded. He squeezed her hand, which he hadn’t let go, and said, “Right then, let’s go talk somewhere private.” 

With a thankful acknowledgement to Bash as she was tugged away, Anne followed behind Gilbert. Watchful eyes fell on them as they journeyed through the house of long, resplendently adorned hallways, so Gilbert released her hand and gave her a shy smile. As they walked, Anne couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was from this angle, with his soft, brown hair and splendid chin. Gilbert opened the door to a room that could only be the house library. He stood in the entrance that she might walk in before him and take in the sights. 

“I do believe we should be able to talk in here undisturbed,” he said sheepishly. Anne’s eyes were fixed on a scenic painting on the wall that looked astonishingly like an orchard in Avonlea. 

“It’s my fault for dropping in without warning,” she replied, just as meek. She turned to look at him and found him gazing upon her with unmistakably smitten eyes. Experiencing a lapse in self control, Anne returned the expression with a shy smile. Gilbert let out a joyous laugh, soared forward, and collected her into a warm embrace. She received him in tender happiness, and for the first time since she’d left home, she felt she might truly relax.

“I’m so happy to see you!” he said earnestly.

“And I you!” She pulled herself out of the embrace so she could fix her eyes on him. “But I must tell you something. May we sit?” 

At the change in her tone, Gilbert’s smile lost its mirth. He nodded and gestured down to the velvety chaise. When they were seated, Anne collected herself, clutching her fists together so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale. 

“Do you know Billy Andrews?” she asked slowly. Gilbert grew his clasped fingers under his nose as he thought.

“Billy...You mean William Andrews? Harmon’s son?” 

“Yes, the very same! He’s an Avonlea boy. I grew up with him and he’s as horrible as they come.”

“Why come all this way to tell me this, Anne?” Anne blinked long, trying to keep her thoughts steady.

“Did you know your father was good friends with Harmon Andrews?” 

“I had a faint idea. He often told stories of the mischief they got into together.” 

“His son, Billy, is second in line for the harbor  _ and  _ the estate. Your father wrote him into his will, likely as tribute to his friendship with Harmon.” Gilbert’s brows cinched together at this. It was clearly news to him. The lawyers had explained the will to him in common language, but they’d left out all mention of Billy Andrews’ role in the proceedings.  

“How could you possibly know that? Why, you didn’t even know who I was until after you and I met.” 

“I heard Billy talking in town about how he’s interested in taking the estate from you,” Anne explained. 

Gilbert scoffed. 

“I hardly think a lifestyle as a farm hand gives a man the funds required to buy the harbor and estate. Besides, I’d never leave, especially since the boys are here.” 

“That’s just it, Gilbert! Billy doesn’t intend to take it with  _ funds _ . He says he’s got a rifle, and he spoke as if he was truly intending to use to it.” 

Anne’s eyes were wild with fear now, staring back at a jolted Gilbert. 

“You say he wants to...to kill me?” he murmured. “He doesn’t even know me."

A tear trickled down her cheek as she took a steadying breath. 

“He didn’t know me when he tried to tell the whole town that I was a harlot. He didn’t know my close friend when he pushed him off a ladder, injuring him permanently.” Anger was flaring in Gilbert’s eyes, but not at her. Sensing his rising fury, she took his hand. “Gilbert, I didn’t come all the way across the island to make unfounded claims. I came to tell you what I heard him say, because I couldn’t rest until you knew. Billy Andrews has always been unpredictable and violent. I don’t know if this is something he’s capable of, but if he did something to you and I never told you...” 

“I believe you, Anne. You did the right thing by coming here,” he said seriously. “It seems Providence really did make you my guardian angel. You must let me repay you somehow.” 

Anne thought this over for a moment, then smiled. 

“Well...there is that teaching position that Bash mentioned. You needed someone to educate the boys?” Gilbert smiled and nodded. 

“Done.”

_ * # * # * _

Anne could nearly see the sea breeze sweeping into the room on a waltz, gliding around the curtains through the empty space in rhythmic time. Her heeled shoes certainly weren’t clacking into completely silence when she took a few awed steps forward, the sound of them echoing against the walls.

“How do you like it?” Gilbert asked behind her. Not yet turning to face him, Anne allowed herself to smile at the intricacies of the baby blue wallpaper, the grand size of the bay window that looked out over the sea, and the cloud-like softness of the bed. The good doctor had added his own personal touches to the room in a small vase of wildflowers that sat on the bedside table. “Anne?” 

She spun around and gaped.

“I’m sure I don’t know what to say,” she stuttered out finally. “It’s all out of a dream. Are you sure you want to give up this blessed space to a lowly school teacher?” 

“Anne, you of all people should know how much I esteem school teachers.  _ And  _ you. If you like the room, then it’s yours.” Gilbert sighed, running his fingers along one of the smooth wooden tables along the wall. “This room was my mother’s personal study. I wasn’t alive when she used it, but from what I understand, it was sacred to her. Something about being so close to the beach. There are stairs to the water, you know. I had my staff bring in a bed for you, but if it isn't comfortable, please tell me. My mother always just slept on the chaise.” 

Anne gave a small smile, white sunlight reflecting into the room onto her rosy face. Gilbert couldn’t help but feel himself thawing into raw tenderness at the sight of her. 

“I’m honored, Gil, truly. I shall read and dream and imagine in this room with as much reverence and sanctity as it deserves. Thank you for preparing it for me, and for the adding the bed. I’ve never been much of a couch sleeper,” she chuckled. Gilbert’s cheeks dimpled, a sight that sent an odd delight through Anne.

“Of course, Anne. If you find you need anything, simply ask.” 

“May I trouble you for some ink and a quill, then? I ought to write to Marilla and tell her I’ve made it safely.” 

“Already thought of that,” Gilbert boasted, pointing to the desk near the window. “A typewriter for all those lovely musings and thoughts you’d like to write down, and an ink and quill in the drawer for your pen tip to dictate your words.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Blythe,” Anne laughed. “I fear you’ve anticipated all my needs and I’ve not realized it!” 

“Maybe some,” he admitted with a shy shrug. “Like your need to eat. Dinner is at six, so take your time to get comfortable. I’m just down the hall if you need anything.” 

After another humble thank you from Anne, Gilbert left the euphoric redhead to the splendor of the room. Stunned, she tiptoed across the wooden floors as if she were in church and settled on the couch by the window. To think, this breathtaking space was all her own! 

When her excitement had been contained, Anne remembered her responsibility. She settled at her new desk with a weighted heart, pulled the materials from the drawer, and began to write.

_ * # * # * _

__**Blythe Estate  
** **North Blythe Harbor Rd.  
** **Glen St. Mary, PEI  
** **Tuesday, September 26th.**

_ Dearest Marilla,  _

_ No doubt you have taken one long look at the return address atop this letter and realized that I have successfully arrived at my destination. I made it here with little difficulty, if not a touch battered and hungry.  _

_ I will not trouble you with the grueling details of train-sickness or my unfamiliarity with the Glen. (In truth, the ride was lovely and the Glen is even moreso.) I shall keep my words brief and inform you that Dr. Blythe has been made aware of the situation and intends to begin necessary precautions this evening. There is, however, some news that I fear will send Mrs. Lynde into what Gilbert calls “conniptions.”  _

_ I intend to stay here at the estate until further notice. You see, Gilbert has taken on forty-three orphan asylum boys with intentions to care for them, but had no suitable means to educate them. I happened to know a very unemployed, yet very qualified young schoolmarm who has plenty of experience with orphan children. To answer Mrs. Lynde’s inevitable questions - as well to alleviate your assured worries- no, the doctor and I are not involved. Propriety is upheld to the utmost here, as you will recall the Blythes are good Presbyterians, just like you and I. _

_ I am safe here, Marilla. I am happy, well-fed, and employed. I am with people who cherish me as I deserve and excited to spread some of that love to young souls who have had beginnings much like my own. When you have forgiven me for my unpleasant leaving of Green Gables, remind me to tell you of darling Paul Irving, of my seaside bedroom, of the extravagant chandeliers, and of Dr. Blythe - of whom I am increasingly fond and impressed. I would be pleased to receive any response you’re willing to send. I remain  _

_ Ever yours,  _

_ Anne _

_ (PS - It’s fortunate Gilbert and I did not grow up in the same classroom, for I fear I would have developed a stormy envy towards him. Or maybe it would have been better that way. I wouldn’t feel like such a imposter of elegance and beauty in this home. Oh, Marilla, please do forgive me. I need you desperately. - AS) _

* # * # *

Just outside the door of the schoolroom, Anne stood with her eyes closed and her heart only seconds away from bursting out of her chest. She’d never been this nervous with students before, but the circumstances of her students had never felt so dire before. All these young boys, unfamiliar and rough around the edges, weren’t just to be taught their curriculum. They needed to be taught to love and to trust, that their lives were worthwhile and had meaning. Could she do it? Was she strong enough? 

Gilbert had all but promised to be by her side on this first day - promises cannot be made when you hold the medical safety of a town in your hands - but had been pulled away with a patient, leaving Anne to weather this storm by herself. She’d be fine, she told herself, she’d weathered worse before. 

Pushing open the door, Anne quickly noticed the silence that befell the forty-three boys, their messy heads of hair spinning to the front chalkboard all at once. She caught sneaky sideways glances at her as she walked up the middle aisle. The muscles in her shoulders felt tense, so she took another deep breath, held the edge of her desk with tight fingers, and faced the boys. 

They were practically purple, holding their breath as not to be reprimanded. 

“Alright lads, let’s all take a keep breath together. I feel we all could use one,” she said finally. Inhaling a stream of air into her lungs, she gestured for the boys to follow. “Deep breath in, fill up those lungs.” 

One by one the boys followed. 

“Hold it,” she said tersely. “Now let it out, nice and strong.” 

All at once, exhales flung out of the boys like slingshots, carrying with them the heaviness of their worries and fears. 

“There, doesn’t that feel better?” A few shy smiles greeted her, and Anne felt her heart warming. “I am Miss Shirley. The forty-four of us will be embarking on an academic adventure over the next few months, but trust me when I say that we will be journeying side by side. I won’t leave any of you behind.” Anne brushed a strand of hair away from her face and side. “Easy for me to just throw the word  _ trust  _ around, isn’t it? Let me prove myself to you all.” 

Then, surprising all the boys - and perhaps even herself - Anne walked to the front of her desk and sat right upon the top of it, crossing her ankles and folding her hands. The boys gawked; half filled with shock and a delighted thrill. 

“Dr. Blythe did not want to trust just anyone with the safety of your futures. I know you boys have seen a dozen faces standing here with the same promises I offer now. You’ve seen stiff-necked, older gentlemen who thrive off of dull memorization. Mustachey, bird-nosed fellows who would rather ridicule than teach. Voluptuous schoolmarms with a proclivity for whooping. Believe me, I have met them all. I met them all when I sat where you sit now, a nervous orphan child with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to gain worth.”

A wave of understanding swelled over the class. 

“So every little feeling of inadequacy you’ve got, I’ve felt and overcome it. Every frustration with geometry and latin spelling, I’ve fumed it. I am here to help you with all the challenges you meet this year, because I know you boys are more than capable of achieving great things,” Anne continued. Then, she cocked a brow and threw a warning glance over the crowd. “But I’ll have you know, that means I’ve also heard every shocking word you could utter and thought of every cruel little prank your minds could think of. I will not tolerate such impediments to our goal in this classroom, and if see such happenings, I’ll report it to Dr. Blythe who I’m told was once a schoolteacher himself.” 

Anne wasn’t sure if the atmosphere was filled with fear or respect. She was quite ready to show her new students that fear was no place for a classroom. Instead, they could all be comrades in the quest for knowledge and achievement. 

“But enough of such introductory nonsense. Grab your slates and a piece of chalk. We’re going outside! Have you fellows ever learned anything about plant cells?” 

_ * # * # *  _

The next month passed in a flurry of autumn leaves, beautiful while it was there but flown away before Anne could stop to enjoy it. Through means of fate, she’d ended up a member of this beautiful, sundry family with all forty-seven of its members. Sometimes she wondered if it was all real, the kindred connection with her students or the early mornings spent in the kitchen with Mary helping her prepare breakfast for the boys. 

Then there was Gilbert - sweet, compassionate, intelligent Gilbert who had a sense of a humor that sent each of the boys howling. Dr. Blythe was most beloved to the boys, a true gentleman that they strived to impress. He still had moved around on his crutch, but was in the latter stages of his healing. Anne found herself in Gilbert’s library at strange hours of the day, mostly during the late nightfall after he returned from doctoring duties. Together they sat in moonshine and candlelight, telling stories and unfolding each other like a damp letter, carefully and reverently. 

One night, Anne had been wrapped in the marshy softness of her blankets and bedding when she heard the door down the hall clip shut. Oftentimes, this sound came welcomed to her, for it meant that Gilbert had returned home safely, but on this particular evening, Anne felt a strange sense that she ought so seek him out. Slipping on her robe, she ignored her bare feet and loose cascades of red hair, and made her way to his bedroom door. 

He answered immediately when she knocked. He took one long look down at her with a surprisingly hard and unreadable expression and moved that she might sneak in. 

“If Mrs. Lynde knew you were here at this hour, she’d certainly drag you home herself,” he muttered quietly, unable to look her in the eye. Anne tucked her arms protectively across her chest and shrugged.

“That would involve  _ her  _ coming into this room at this hour, and I think we’re quite safe from that.” He couldn’t help but smile at that. Anne tilted her head as she peered curiously at him, candlelight turning her face into a half-lit moon. “What’s the matter, Gil?” 

Gilbert released a dejected sigh that he’d been holding onto and plopped back onto one of his heavily upholstered sofas. Anne sat beside him, patiently waiting for the man to open himself for her tender analysis. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he said finally. 

“ _ Gilbert,  _ you are positively-” 

“Alright, alright!” he admonished, running his hand through the messy curls atop his head. “Aside from the terrible ache in my leg and the fact that my father passed away five years ago _today_ ” - Anne sucked in a sharp breath - “I lost a patient today. A patient I was  _ positive  _ I could save. I even made the mistake of telling her husband so, and getting his hopes up. But to tell him I’d been  _ wrong  _ and that she wouldn’t…” Gilbert’s lips clamped shut and he swallowed. “I think I took on too much. I can’t be a doctor  _ and  _ run this harbor. I can’t.” 

Anne didn’t hold any answers to his problems. His grief was all his own, insecurities too strong a storm for even her to pull him out of. But while Gilbert knew how to treat matters of physical pain, Anne knew a thing or two about aches of the heart. 

At first, she simply stayed with him and allowed him to dwell on his thoughts without judgment. In those moments, she was attuned to his shallow breaths and furrowed brow, as well as the wax dripping from the candle on the table beside them. 

“Wait here,” she said after a silence. He nodded, barely aware of the ten minutes she was gone as if they passed by in years of haze and cloudiness. When she slipped back into the room, she was a sight that brought relief to him, rosy skin dewy in the evenlight. In her hands she carried a small tray with a sandwich, a steaming hot chocolate, and some of the buttered vegetables they’d had at dinner without him. On the side of the tray, Anne had dropped some of the small chocolate sweeties that she’d used to make the rich beverage in a neat little smiling face. She set the tray down on the table in front of him. 

“It’s much harder to think sad thoughts when your stomach is full,” she said simply. “I know you didn’t eat dinner.” 

Gilbert’s small smile was her undoing, soft around the edges and genuine in its appreciation. He began to eat, moaning at the first sip of hot chocolate in a way that made Anne look away lest she burn alive. 

“Do you think you could talk about it?” Anne asked when most of the meal was eaten. Gilbert set down his ceramic tankard and let out another sigh. 

“Mrs. Graham died today of the same thing that killed my father. The same respiratory disease that made me decide to become a doctor. In many cases, it can be cured if caught early enough, but let unattended, it's nearly impossible to manage. I was so sure that I caught it early enough and that I had finally conquered it. But I miscalculated, observed the symptoms incorrectly.” His voice broke, so he took another sip of hot chocolate. “It all hit too closely to home, I suppose.” 

“I understand the feeling,” Anne empathized. “Being around the boys and teaching them is like looking in the mirror and seeing my eleven-year-old self. You and I are putting ourselves close to the things that hurt us in hopes that it helps other people. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?” 

“It’s not worth anything if I’m not successful,” Gilbert lamented. "People  _die_ when I fail, Anne." 

“No, I think it’s worth  _ everything  _ no matter the outcome. Tell me, did you ease Mrs. Graham’s pain?” 

“Well, yes, as much as I could-”

“And you ensured she was in conditions that made her feel safe and comfortable?” 

“Yes. Anne, I know where you’re going with this and-” 

“Her husband was there? Maybe her children?” Gilbert held his tongue, giving in after a moment.

“All of them,” he answered finally. “They were all there.” 

“ _ You  _ gave them that. That woman’s soul was content and safe when the night swept her away. You can’t control death, Gilbert, but you can do everything you can to make a person feel like they’re worth something. That’s what your speciality is, I think. And for what it’s worth, I truly cannot believe that her death was by a folly of yours. Sometimes the Almighty just makes up his mind about a thing and we can’t do anything but accept it.” 

Gilbert’s jaw tightened as Anne watched one tear trickle down his face. Feeling it hit his nose, he gave a sharp inhale, then brushed it aside with a hand and chuckled. 

“I’m in awe of you, Anne Shirley, truly,” he murmured gently. Anne felt like steam rising up and away, smooth in its curve toward dissipation. Gilbert brought the tray of food back to the table, then collapsed back against the couch, leaning his head to the side to stretch the muscles of his neck. A hiss escaped his lips when he shifted his injured leg beneath him. 

“Where does it hurt? Just your leg?” Anne asked. 

“Everywhere,” he admitted, and Anne wondered if he was talking about more than just his body. Though she was ready to go to sleep, she couldn’t leave him when he was like this, not when his eyes were silently asking for her to stay.

“Turn this way,” she instructed, trying her best not to sound too much like a schoolmarm. 

“What are you-”

“Gil, for once will you just listen without question?” 

The man gave her an exhausted look, finally giving into her request and turning so that his back was facing her. He sucked in a sharp breath when her hands trailed up his back and neck.

“Do you trust me?” she whispered near his ear. His answer came almost immediately, breathy and broken.

“Yes.” 

“Then close your eyes and relax. I won’t hurt you.” 

Like the tide rising up at the first hints of the moon, Anne’s hands made a slow ascent through his brown curls, nails dragging along his scalp, until her fingers were pressed up against his temples. His head fell back, a small sigh escaped in resignation to the bliss of her touch.  Slowly, her fingers moved in small circles against his head, releasing the tension of five years of mourning and of this new grief. The swirls and tugs of her touch eased the soreness like a hot compress. When the pressure had released, she moved her fingers down the side of his face in a featherlight touch that turned him to fire. 

“Where did you learn to do this?” he slurred, drunk on the pleasure of it. 

“When I was younger, I often got headaches because I cried so frequently. Matthew did this to ease the pain, to make me feel loved.” 

Gilbert shivered. He felt loved, more than loved - encaptured in her tender touch, safe in her ministrations. As her hands carefully massaged the muscles in his neck, Gilbert paid close attention to the electric delight of his nerves wherever her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out another breathy sound when she pressed her thumbs into a tightness in his back, smoothing out the skin until the tension had drained from him like a stormcloud abandoning all its rain unto the ground. 

“You’re a good man,” Anne said slow and soft to him as she pressed her palms into his back, her nails trailing behind. “A capable doctor, a kind soul. You are exactly where you need to be. You’ll be okay.” 

She could see a salty tear catch the underside of his jaw, then brushed it away. Nudging him so he might turn back to her, she found him looking at her as if his soul had been newly born - vulnerable and tender. 

“Close your eyes,” she murmured kindly. He complied immediately this time.

An unexpected thought crossed Anne’s mind. What would happen if she kissed him? Would he recoil away? Take her into his arms and return it sevenfold? The uncertainty frightened her. 

Instead, she pressed her thumbs onto his eyelids as gently as she could and rubbed in small circles. 

“Do you think you can rest now?” her gentle voice asked when she pulled her hands away.

“I think so,” he replied. Blue eyes slowly slid open to meet hers, more content than they were when she first began. The trouble had left him, leaving behind an exhausted Gilbert Blythe in need of a good night’s rest. Anne reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a little. 

“I’ll tell the housemaids not to wake you unless there’s a medical call. Goodnight, Gilbert.” 

She had released his hand and closed the door behind her when finally Gilbert had found the strength in his to whisper, “Goodnight Anne.” 


	4. Proserpina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little lengthy, but it's filled with lots of good bits, I swear! Thanks again to Alexis for being the best pal a girl could ask for and for loving this story with so much conviction.

It had happened sometime during her stay at the estate that Anne came to love the absence of silence. The heavy soundlessness only descended upon the house in the evening hours after all the servants and schoolboys were asleep. As soon as the sun shone its first hints of light on the east facing harbor, there came to be voices and laughter and singing and gossiping.

How she adored these Sunday afternoons, where she could delve into her favorite novel on the settee beside her window and let the gentle crashing of waves near the house hone her focus. In the foyer beneath her, one of the boys practiced a bumpy rendition of a Mozart work, but the melody drifted up to her like a song on the wind.

Above all the soft noise, Anne was broken out of her reading by a knock at the door.

“Come in, please!” she said, straightening up from her reclined position to one suitable for guests. She hoped it might be Gilbert, but couldn’t be disappointed when Mary poked in her friendly face.

“Hey there, Anne. Got free moment?” she said. Anne crossed the room to her radiant new friend, noticing the letter she was carrying.

“I was just doing a little light reading,” Anne assured. “Besides, I’ve always got time for you. Is something the matter?”  

Mary’s smile faltered then, and Anne could see in her eyes about a thousand things the woman wished to say. Some were good, she supposed, but there was a caution in Mary’s expression, as well. Certainly she wasn’t _afraid_ to speak to Anne. Why, Anne had been under the impression that the two of them were kindred from the first!

“What do you know about the Stuart family?” Mary said carefully. The name wasn’t familiar at all to Anne. There wasn’t anyone in Avonlea with the name, and as far as she knew, none of the boys belong to the Stuarts.

“Nothing, I suppose. Why?” Mary hummed, seemingly displeased with this answer.

“No reason. Just curious,” she lied, but Anne wasn’t brave enough to question further. “This came for you in the mail today.”

Mary thrusted Anne the ivory colored envelope as if the diversion of it would be enough to distract her from the few seconds of conversation. Anne took the letter, nonetheless, noticing how light in her hands it was compared to the other correspondences she’d received before. She flipped it over so that she might see the return address, and gasped.

“M. Cuthbert,” she muttered. “It’s from my mother.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Anne wasn’t quick to respond, but if Mary noticed the change in her tone, she didn’t say it. Running a finger over the smooth parchment, Anne swallowed back a rock forming in her throat.

“I hope so. Thank you, Mary. I think I’ll go out by the trees and read for a while.”

She could feel Mary’s eyes on her as she left, a heavy apprehensive look that mothers give their daughters the first time she walks herself to school. Still, she said nothing as she slipped out of the house, the laughter and noise she’d reveled in just moments ago suddenly an unbearable cacophony.

Gilbert came to her sometime later, after she’d read the letter over and over and over until she had each heartbreaking word memorized and dry fingertips from grasping the paper. When he found her though, she was leaning completely still against the sturdy trunk of a tree, looking out as the late afternoon sun prepared to take its first descending steps. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him approach, and decided to simply settle down beside her to gaze off at the same lovely horizon. Anne didn’t turn to him. Instead, she handed him an open envelope and crossed her arms on her knees.

Gilbert saw the return address, understanding almost immediately the cause of her sudden quiet.

“May I read it?” he asked quietly.  Anne nodded, leaning her chin on her arms. Clearing his throat, he began to read in a low tone.

“Dear Anne, I would like to ask you to restrict your correspondence with Green Gables to matters of urgency or absolute importance. Rachel and I are very busy with the Ladies Aid and with church volunteer work, and thus are short on time to write letters. I know you will understand. Sincerely, Marilla?” Gilbert finished incredulously. “Anne, I...I cannot fathom she was in her right mind when she wrote that.”

“Marilla is _always_ in her right mind, Gil. It was me. I hurt her more than I’ve ever hurt her before and now she certainly despises me.” He turned to face her, expression kind.

“I don’t think she could. You’re her daughter.”

“Only by choice. Certainly now I am merely an obligation because of prior commitment.”

“Anne, that’s not true and you know it.”

She wished she could believe it, but the scarred insecurities that she’d known as a child were beginning to show their nasty heads again and she feared if she opened her mouth, he’d hate what she’d say. Still, if the ease in their friendship had taught her anything in the past weeks, it was that being honest with Gilbert felt easy and beautiful. To feel his presence beside her was like reading a sonnet over and over and over, dwelling in the same warm sensations of the language every time. Maybe that was why she confessed,

“If Matthew were still alive, he would’ve known this was what I had to do. He would’ve seen how important this is to me. How important _you_ are to me.”

Gilbert’s cheeks lifted into a red-hued smile, and he reached out and grabbed her hand.

“I know the feeling,” he replied quietly. “Anne, I’m sorry Marilla’s letter wasn’t what you hoped it would be, but she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anne ran her hand through the strands of grass at her side, pausing as longer strands got tangled against her fingers.

“You’re right,” she said, looking up at the horizon with its first hints of pink and orange. Far below them, the ocean churned, content to be made beautiful by the dusk and the gentle breeze. “Thank you, Gilbert. For what it’s worth, I don’t regret the decision I made the night I left Green Gables. I’d choose it all over again if I had to.”

Gilbert sucked his lip under his teeth to bite back his grin, but it blossomed in his eyes before he could hide the full extent of its splendor from Anne.

“I have some things I’d like to discuss with you tonight after supper. Suppose you come by my study whenever is convenient for you?” he suggested carefully.

“Wouldn’t you rather discuss them now?” she laughed. It wasn’t often they got a moment like this alone together without any servants listening, schoolboys interrupting, or Bash teasing. In fact, the last time they’d been this close and breathing the same air was that night in Gilbert’s room when they’d bled out their truths together.

The memory of it brought Anne back to the present, but to a different reality than she’d been in moments ago. This was a reality where she ached to lean forward and press herself to him. She’d taste the hardened lines of his jaw, run her fingertips along the firmness of his chest, allow him to kiss all the sensitive parts of her throat.

Unaware of the onslaught of longing that had begun to drive Anne mad with yearning and fear, Gilbert wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her so that she might lean her head upon his shoulder.

“It can wait. I think I am quite content to stay here for a while longer, here with you.”

_* # * # *_

Anne had never been to Gilbert’s study before. It was a space that was protected by the unspoken rule that no one should bother the doctor when he was in his office, and no one should enter when he wasn’t.

“I keep confidential documents on file in my study,” he had explained to her one day. “In a town this small, disclosed medical records have the power to devastate a person’s reputation or pride.”

But rarely did someone have an invitation from the doctor himself like she did.

“It’s because I trust you, Anne.”

A few servants sent her wary glances as they passed her in the hallway, peering over their shoulders as she shifted from foot to foot before his door. Her palms had developed a thin layer of sweat, and she wiped them across her dress. It was just Gilbert, she told herself. She spoken with him dozens of times before. Why should her heart beat nearly out of her chest at the prospect of seeing him now? Fortifying herself, Anne squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

“Just a moment,” came Gilbert’s muffled voice from inside the office. Anne folded her hands behind her back and balanced her features. When the door drifted open, she was smiling up at him the same way she always did, but the sight of candlelit contours made her fight the instinct to melt to the floor. He had put back on his brown doctor’s jacket after dinner, but the solitude of his own thoughts had sent him rustling his hand through his hair, tossing his brown curls every which way.

“Hello, Anne,” he greeted warmly. “Come in, won’t you?”

Gilbert’s study look just like every other room in the house, with its walls lined with bookshelves  and ornate, coffered ceiling. He kept his large desk off to the left of the room near the marble fireplace, with a leather padded examination chair near the window looking over the sea. The only shelf in the room that was free of some sort of bound text was one which held several locked boxes and wooden cases which Anne could only assume contained medical utensils. Perhaps the highlight of the room was the view from the window of glistening moon hovering just over the horizon. The light shone onto the calm waves, oscillating with the sea like a heartbeat.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“You told me not many people are permitted in here. I was just looking around to see how accurate the image I conjured up was.”

“Is it everything you imagined?” Gilbert asked, amused.

“No, it seems I am constantly and pleasantly surprised by the splendor of your home.”

“It’s your home too, Anne. You know you’re welcome here as long as you like. Forever if you wish it.”

There was something heavier in the question that Anne couldn’t quite name. Forever was certainly a long time. Would she be overstaying her welcome if she continued to live here after Gilbert found a wife and had children of his own? Unless, of course, by _forever_ he meant…

Anne cleared her throat, stopping her derailing thoughts in their tracks.

“You said there something you wanted to discuss?” she asked politely. Gilbert led her to sit in the chair in front of his desk, pulling the upholstered seat for her before going round the other side of the table and taking his own place.

“It’s more something I wanted to ask your opinion on,” he stated, leaning back in his chair a little. Anne quirked a brow, urging him to continue. “It recently occurred to me that I am the only individual in my...circle that has taken an interest in investing in social matters.”

“The orphan asylum?”

“Yes. I’ve found it incredibly rewarding to watch these boys grow up and know that they’ve been re-enfranchised their right to a quality life and education. But I’m the _only_ one making an effort and I know for certain that the rest of the harbor investors have the funds to make such impacts themselves. And -” He paused. “You don’t look nearly as surprised as I thought you might.”

“Gilbert, I lived in those asylums. I know how I was treated. We were certainly never the object of monetary pity, just unmitigated disgust.”

The doctor looked down at his desk and tightened his jaw.

“I hope you know I’m not helping those boys out of pity,” he swore solemnly.

Anne _did_ know. She’d seen the way he was with the boys, the way he loved them as truly and mentored them as dedicated as he might if all forty-three of them were his own. What she doubted, in the truest depths of her heart, was whether or not Gilbert was helping _her_ out of pity, out of obligation. She would’ve saved his life that day in the storm, whether he was the poorest man in Canada or the richest. But she’d leave right that instant if she was given any evidence that her position was given to her out of pity for her unmarried and unemployed poor situation.

“Anne?” Gilbert asked, a little uneasy. “You know I mean what I say.”

“Yes! Yes, sorry,” Anne sputtered out. “Thinking about such things has always been somewhat unpleasant for me and I get pulled into my own mind. But I think I may have an idea of how you may encourage your peers to find empathy in their hearts without making open judgments on how they spend their money.”

“I’m all ears,” Gilbert replied, leaning forward.

“Host a charity ball. They’re likely antiquated these days, but I’m willing to bet that crowd would do anything to dress to the nines and flaunt their own accomplishments. Request a small donation upon entry and forward the proceeds to the asylum directly.”

Folding his fingers underneath his chin, a mischievous glint flickered in his eye.

“That’s positively genius!” he agreed. “I’ve been to similar events in the past. People boast about their donations to such an extent that others have raised their own out of spite! It’s a dirty tactic, but I think it just might work.”

“It doesn’t have to be all dirty,” Anne supplied. “Gilbert, your appeal as a doctor and a businessman is how personable and genuine you are. If you confide in your wealthier friends about the fulfilling feeling of improving another human’s life, perhaps they will find themselves urged to become more involved themselves. You can appeal to their empathy and sensibility. Use _me_ as an example. I’d gladly talk about my upbringing if it meant I could help the boys at the asylum.”

Gilbert’s eyes became soft as starlight.

“You’d do that?”

“For you, and for them, I would.”

“I’ll discuss the idea with Bash, but if he agrees, I imagine we could host the event before the end of autumn.” The excited sparkle in his eye dimmed as another thought crossed through his mind, his mouth parted as he searched for the right way to begin. “There is something else,” he said, breaking the pause.

Anne worried for a moment that _she_ might have done something to displease him, but a new fear came over her entirely when he said,

“I’ve been in correspondence with William Andrews.”

Anne’s stomach fell the floor and she sucked in a sharp breath to keep from gasping.

“Are you angry?” he asked, fists clenched with his own nervousness.

“No! Gilbert, no, not even a little. I’m…” Her fingers found the folds of her skirts, tugging to release her building dread. At last she settled on, “Frightened. Your tone suggests it hasn’t been going well.”

“He wrote to ask about a potential arrangement to be made in the fulfillment of my father’s will.”

“Certainly your father’s will has _already_ been fulfilled,” Anne replied.

“That was my initial response to him. Aside from the inheritance set aside for my children, or Bash’s children should I not have any myself, all the money has been distributed. I believe Billy meant to renegotiate the terms of the will.”

“You can’t _renegotiate_ a will!” Anne cried, suddenly disgusted at the prospect. Of course Billy didn’t care a single thing about John Blythe or his dying wishes! All he cared about was his own gain.

“Not to mention my father already honored his friendship with Harmon. Billy received some inheritance five years ago, as per the will’s instructions, but Billy believes it wasn’t adequate.”

“That’s ridiculous! Who is _he_ to say that an inheritance isn’t adequate?”

“I refused all of his requests to meet in person. My hands are full enough managing the Harbor with Bash and running out on medical calls to deal with a petulant man’s greedy intentions. Especially with _my_ late father’s money.”

Anne crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with an impressed chuckle.

“Why, Dr. Blythe, you have some gumption to speak of, after all.”

“You knew it was there,” he retorted, face flushing.

“I knew it was there when you called me a siren,” Anne agreed. “But why are you telling me this now? Did you want me to...talk to Billy?”

“No!” Gilbert rushed. “I want you to stay as far from him as you can. I don’t say that to try and control you, Anne, I’m just convinced now more than ever that Billy has ill intentions with my life in order to get what he wants. I’m telling you because even though I believed you before, I had my doubts, and for that I am sorry. I believe you completely, wholeheartedly now. I want you to know what I intend to do about it - starting with something I believe you may be able to help you with.”

“You want _my_ help?”

“Of course! You know what Billy looks like. I’ve never met the man. I’d like you to describe him as best you can, like one of your book characters if you have to, so that I can inform the staff to be on the look. I fear it’s not just my own safety at stake, but Bash’s, yours, and the boys. I need to keep my family safe.”

So she did. Anne waited for Gilbert to open one of his leather notebooks, then began to describe the yellow undertone of his pale face, the almost triangular roundness of his head, and the straight gold hair he always kept slicked to the right. She told Gilbert things she had never noticed about Billy until she was forced to think about him, but just the image in her mind was enough to set her stomach churning.

“His eyes are slanted down just a little,” she explained. “And he walks with such an entitled air that you’d like to just kick his legs out from underneath him!”

“Is that all?” Gilbert said with a hint of playfulness.

“That’s all I ever cared to notice,” she said stately.

“If _that’s_ all you ever cared to notice about someone you don’t like, I’d love to hear how you describe someone you do like.”

Then, perhaps because she was a bit impulsive and eager as Marilla always said she was, she responded in an even tone, “Then ask me about you sometime.”

Gilbert’s lips lifted in a crooked smile and his eyes lifted from his journal to stare at her straight on.

“I like you too,” he said quietly with that smile that Anne could have lived a happy, torment-free life without seeing. Feeling a swell in her chest that, if bubbled out, would have resulted in her flinging herself across the desk and kissing him square on his soft mouth, Anne stood up. Gilbert jumped at her abruptness, but rose to his feet.

“Yes, well, I’d best be off to prepare for bed. Class meets in the morning and it wouldn’t be fair to the boys if their schoolteacher is dead on her feet! I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure!”

Gilbert was not to be thus sidetracked.

“Anne,” he called out - not desperately, not quickly, but calmly as if he knew what he was doing.

“Yes?” She felt exposed in front of him, like his gaze was seeing through her skin and into most honest corners of herself that she never dared touch.

“Would you like to spend some time with me tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

A thousand questions were reeling in her head all at once, some curious ( _Where will you take me?),_ some wary ( _Won’t we be interrupted by your patients? Surely they are more important?),_ some positively alarmed ( _Do you mean on a romantic tryst?)_ All she needed to do was look up at the hopeful smile and the matching adorative smile to for all her questions to be answered.

Gilbert Blythe _cared_ about her, and it terrified her.

Suddenly, Anne realized that if she had given into the irrational urge to kiss him like she’d longed to only moments ago,  he probably would have let her. Maybe he would have taken her up in his arms and pressed as close as could be allowed with the separation of the desk. She finally get to touch his soft hair the way she yearned to, and be treated with reverence in return.

She cared about him, too, and more than that, she trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone before, not like this.

But she had to give him an answer because she if she waited any longer, he might just turn completely white and take it all back.

“Of course,” she said in a sure tone. “I think I’d like that.”

A grin erupted on Gilbert’s face, the kind Anne knew he wouldn’t be able to bite back with all his strength. He reached out like he might take her hands in his and press each of her smooth fingertips to his lips one by one. Just the thought of it made heat erupt beneath her neck and blaze up to the apples of her cheeks, but he caught himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Excellent, I’ll come collect you after your class dismisses tomorrow.”

Anne doubted her feet touched the floor as she walked back to her room, feeling that there were clouds beneath her toes that carried her on the early autumn breeze.

_* # * # *_

Looking back, Anne wished she could report not falling prey to the temptation of vanity for the sake a man’s presence. To report so would be a lie, one that she didn’t feel too ashamed about. It had been one of the only times that she allowed herself to dedicate a few extra minutes in front of her ornate vanity to style her hair into a pretty style she’d seen Diana wear once. In fact, it had been Diana’s idea in the first place.

“ _Oh, I know what Marilla says about vanity, but there’s no harm in wanting to feel pretty in your own skin,”_ she’d written in one of her letters. “ _Darling, it sounds like you really care for this man. I know that probably frightens you, so spend a few extra and dote on yourself like you dote on me! Tuck your hair in that elegant style you admire, whisper some encouraging words to yourself, and show that man the absolute treasure that you are! You’re a rare gift, Anne Shirley, and if Dr. Blythe can’t see it for himself, I will march up to the Glen and tell him myself!”_

Now she was alone in the empty classroom, the chattering of the boys echoing in the hallway outside the door. Standing at the window outlooking the estate garden where the boys tended to play amongst the shaped bushes and patches of lilies and daisies, Anne stared at her own reflection. In books, it seemed so easy for the heroine to gain the attention of the her affection’s object. But the heroines in her stories tended to be wealthy, beautiful, and demure. She was none of those things, but wouldn’t Gilbert like a girl who was imaginative and kind better? Brave in her own vulnerable strength? She chanced another glance at her reflection, and when her gaze focused, she thought she looked a tiny bit lovelier than she had a moment ago.

Ever more lovely, she could make out the silhouette of a beloved man leaning against the doorframe, waiting and watching with easy patience. Anne spun around, flush warming her cheeks.

“Just how long have you been standing there, Gil?”

He gave a playful shrug, nodding toward the door.

“Not long. Do you have time for a small rendezvous with adventure?” he asked in a sort of purr-like sound that made Anne bite her lip.

“Whenever I’m with you, it seems like I’m going on some life-altering adventure.” Nevertheless, she took some small steps forward, allowing the friendly doctor to take her hand in his calloused one.

“ _That_ ,” Gilbert emphasized, “hardly sounds like a complaint, Miss Shirley.”

“I suppose that depends on what you have planned today,” she teased back.

“Oh, but what is life without a little bit of surprise?” He sent an impish glance her way, then took down the hallway, running with boyish delight toward the woods. Anne let out a surprised gasp, pausing just long enough to let Gilbert put some distance between them, before picking up her skirts and setting off after him.

“I think I’ve had quite enough surprise in my life! I seem to recall being _quite_ surprised when I found a young sailor bobbing like an apple in a seastorm! And then I was even _more_ surprised to find he was not a sailor at all!” she called after him, gaining on him as his stamina waned. “Gilbert, I don’t think it’s very dignified for a schoolteacher to chase after a doctor in -” she tripped over the last step of the boys’ living building “-in such a chaotic fashion!”

“Who’s going to scold us?” Gilbert laughed, spinning around to meet her eyes. “This is _my_ home!”

Just as Anne’s lungs felt that they might give out, Gilbert himself skidded to a halt and bent over. The afternoon heat from the yellowish sun produced a thick drop of sweat on his brow, which he wiped away unceremoniously and flicked into the grass. Anne’s chest heaved as she watched Gilbert throw his head back and let out a carefree guffaw.

“You’re looking at me as if you’ve seen a ghost, Anne!” he said, laughing so hard his eyes had sprung tears in the corners. She couldn’t help but reciprocate the mirth.

“You try running in a corset, Dr. Blythe. I’m merely - stop laughing at me! - I’m merely wondering what has suddenly possessed you!”

Gilbert released a long _Ahhh_ sound with a happy sigh.

“I think I’ve been spending too much time around those boys! Oh, what I’d give to take back my stolen youth!” he said dramatically. Anne’s smile faltered - stolen youth? -  but Gilbert wasn’t about to let it fall completely off her face. “Come Queen Anne, I think I’m finally ready to show you your surprise.”

He extended a strong hand to her, which she accepted without question. As they moved beyond the border of the tended garden and into the thicket of the forest, Gilbert caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

“If there’s anything that these past weeks has taught me, it’s that you are indeed not a siren,” he murmured. The sunlight peeking through the trees turned the ground into a kaleidoscope of light and shadows.

“Oh, then what am I?” Anne said, half distracted by the first hints of burnt umber leaves trickling down onto the crisp soil and the age-old trees that stretched wise, old limbs up to the midday sky. Her gait had slowed as she took in the sights around her, and Gilbert leaned down beside her ear and whispered,

“A dryad.” Anne had enough bravery to turn part of the way toward Gilbert, finding their faces so close together she could smell the sweet smell of sea salt coming off of him. He chanced a single glance down at her lips, then continued walking, pulling Anne along with him.

“I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t live where there were no trees; something vital in me would starve,” she said leisurely, though her heart hadn’t stopped racing its marathon.

“I’m much the same way,” Gilbert agreed. “My family in Avonlea had this marvelous orchard that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Whenever I visited, I could occupy myself hours and hours, filling my lungs with air and my stomach with apples.”

“Oh, I know that orchard,” Anne said with a fond amount of wistfulness. The orchard in question always appeared to Anne like the Garden of Eden, though she was free to pluck as many apples as she was hungry for without fear of sin. She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling that being by his side was _right,_ especially now that she’d known the little spot of paradise had been sacred for him too. But there was something else she wanted to know.

She didn’t have a chance to ask it, for they stumbled onto the first of Gilbert’s surprises.

“Are you taking me for boat ride?” she asked, cheeks lifting into a smile.

“Just down the stream and through the woods. There’s a spot that I’d like to show you. It’s easiest to get to by boat, but the view of the overhead trees on the way isn’t bad, either. Would you like to go?”

Anne’s eyes fell on the dory propped up against the tree, then shifted to the creek. It reminded her of the mythical river Acheron, the river that flowed to the gates of hades, but instead of death, Anne felt this river must flow into a mystical faery kingdom. Low hanging branches grazes their vines upon the surface of the water. The ambling stream flowed crisp and cool into an unknown she longed to see.

“Take me.”

 

“How did you find such a place?” Anne asked some minutes later to Gilbert, who rowed in slow, steady strokes. Her eyes hadn’t known which beauty to settle on - that of the magical garden all around them in its balsamy fragrance, or that of the man before her, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Gilbert’s eyes, however, hadn’t moved from the ethereal being before him, drinking in her radiant enjoyment and making it his own.

“When my father was ill, I needed somewhere to get away. Somewhere that didn’t smell like disease and medicine. Really, all I needed was some fresh air. Pretty quickly I found this place.”

“I did the same thing as a child,” Anne said in a light voice, as if the shared experience wasn’t sad, but instead made them even more kindred. “Many of the homes I stayed in weren’t welcoming to a strange girl with an imagination bigger than she was. But the _trees!”_ She sighed and leaned her head back, pretending the ends of her hair were touching the water. “The trees loved me better than anyone ever did, that is, until I Matthew and Marilla took me in.”

“Was it hard to be an orphan?” he asked seriously. The question was one she had received dozens of times in her life, but for once she felt she didn’t need to answer. She peered up at him through golden lashes, grayish blue eyes bright against the green scenery, and said in a kind tone,

“You tell me, Gil.”

He stopped rowing for a moment and let the words sink in. Then, realizing they’d practically come to a halt, he gripped the oars again and carried on.

“You see, Gilbert, I think that no matter how many people you have around you, or how many things you have, loneliness is still loneliness.” She laughed. “But with trees like these ones, it’s a wonder anyone is lonely!”

“They’re lovely, but they’re a poor substitute for company like yours,” Gilbert replied. Anne’s cheeks turned a lovely sunset magenta, and he knew he was doing something right.

Dipping her hand in the water, Anne remembered what she’d wanted to ask him about, but waited until the chill had woven a tingling sensation into her fingertips.

“Your father being ill and you spending a lot of time alone out here...Is that what you meant earlier when you said your childhood had been stolen from you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just that. My father didn’t fall seriously  ill until the end of my college years,” Gilbert replied simply, if not a bit melancholy. “He happened upon his wealth the same way I happened upon mine. A generous man honored him in his will for the kindness he’d done, and in many ways, it’s been the biggest blessing my family has ever had. To have every single one of our needs met, to be warm and happy, content that tomorrow there will be food on the table and friends at the door - it’s more than my father had when he was a boy. Not to mention, Bash and Mary have a beautiful home to raise their family in, and I can care for the boys.”

“But…?”

Gilbert sighed and shook his head, a vulnerable smile on his lips.

“But the Harbor was so much responsibility for my father to take on and the stress of it certainly didn’t aid his declining health. Sometimes I wonder if he’d still be alive if we’d just lived with his family in Alberta or my mother’s family in Avonlea. I could’ve met you sooner!”

“Which probably would have been a catastrophe.”

“ _Or,_ it would’ve been a beautiful, fulfilling friendship.”

Anne had waltzed with _what-ifs_ enough to know that if Gilbert continued like this, he’d run around himself in circles until he was too dizzy to be sure what was real and what was make-believe. She placed a comforting hand over his hand and gave it a tender squeeze.

“Isn’t that what we have now?” she said.

“Yes, and I am grateful for it. So, _so_ grateful. But Anne, I won’t ever get back the things I’ve lost. I lost growing up with a mother, living in a humble home where everyone knows each other’s thoughts, and learning in a schoolroom with other children.”

Alongside them, the flowing stream trickled on.

“In a way, it’s another thing you have to mourn, Gil. Will you let yourself? Can you let the past go so that you can enjoy the blessings of the present?”

The doctor continued the steady rhythm of his rowing, turning his cheeks up to the patch of sunlight that had fallen over them. He thought back on the life he lived - the things he would do all over again and the things he’d write in granite to keep them the same. This woman, with her apricot hair and cheeks of constellations, was one thing that he’d write into the story of his life and hold there. Forever, he hoped to tell the story of the siren queen who dove into the tempest to save his life. He’d speak of her strength, her resolution, the compassion in her smile, and the stretch of eternity in her eyes.

“What’s done is done,” quoted Gilbert with a new sense of ease. “You’re here right now, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Anne knew exactly how he felt.

Eventually the dory had journeyed as far as it could in the humble stream, and Gilbert rowed it to the landing laced with grass and wild lilies. They helped each other step out, chuckling at the boats unsteadiness as it swayed them side to side, before their feet touched the mossy ground. Gilbert moved so that Anne could gaze upon the small haven that he had brought them to.

Gaze she did. All the beauties of the Glen she’d seen before did not compare to this hallowed spot, which was so much like Avonlea forests that her heart gave a tender squeeze. The reason the rowboat had stopped where it did was because the stream had opened into a crescent shaped pond with a crown of water lilies and fallen leaves. Gilbert, having known the spot, had left a cream colored basket in the clearing beside the pond, a blanket a cozy resting place amongst the tall grass. Flowers lined the clearing beside the pond,  a wall of fragrant blossoms made of a dozen pinks and light blues.

Gilbert noticed the object of her adoring eyes and plucked a few blossoms, handing them to her without a single word. He moved to the blanket he’d laid out and stretched out it like a cat preparing for an afternoon rest. When he peered up at her, squinting through the sunlight, he saw her standing there - one hand on a paperwhite birch tree, the other holding her bouquet of rose-thrifts at her side. The ease of her grace took the breath from him, but he was content to breathe her in instead.

Anne was looking back at him with just as much barely contained rapture. There he was, her golden-hearted doctor, smiling upon her the way she never thought anyone would be able to.

“Come sit a while, Anne,” he offered, the sun turning his face into gold with its soft skin and thin layer of sweat. “I’ve got something for you.”

The skirts of her summer sky dress moved through the grass as she made her way to him, spreading like spilled ink when she sat beside him. Had she been alone, she’d have kicked off her shoes and spread out her legs to feel the tall grass between her toes.

But she was here with Gilbert. She could no less tear her gaze away from his than increase the short distance between them.

“Gilbert, you didn’t have to bring me anything. This sight is pleasure enough.”

“I believe you’ll like this small offering. You see, I wrote a letter and its recipient had it in her heart to send a response.” He pulled an envelope from his picnic basket, placing it in her outstretched hand as gentle as a feather hitting the ground. Anne bit her lip when she read the return address.

“It’s from Marilla,” she murmured. Closing her eyes, she placed the envelope back in his grasp, covering it with her other hand. “I can’t...I don’t want to ruin this moment with something that breaks my heart so.”

“Look at who it’s addressed to, you goose. I’ve already read it.”

Sure enough, the letter was addressed to a “Dr. Gilbert J. Blythe” and not “Prodigal, Redheaded harem scarem.”

“Oh,” Anne muttered, frightened at something she couldn’t name.

“Read it outloud, Anne, for the trees and the wind,” he said dramatically, laying back on the blanket and closing his eyes.

“Gilbert, are you su-”

“ _Anne,”_ he drawled. “I’ve got the first few lines memorized if you won’t read it yourself. See? ‘Dear Dr. Blythe, I must say I was _astonished_ to find your letter-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll read it, just leave the dramatic readings to me and Paul Irving.” Anne cried out, nudging him with her knee. Gilbert chuckled, sticking his elbow out and propping his head up so that he might watch her. Licking her lips, Anne began to read.

“Dear Dr. Blythe, I must say I was astonished to find your letter waiting for me when I returned home from Charlottetown just this afternoon. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to read your accounts of Anne, her successes as a teacher and how well she is fairing. As for your news on Billy Andrews, I fear I have made a dreadful mistake in not believing Anne when she needed my support most. I only wish that I could have seen that she was doing the right thing all along, even if cost her greatly. If you could, please tell Anne that I don’t intend to make her pay that cost anymore. If she can forgive me, I’d welcome a letter from her. As for your invitation to the charity ball you’re hosting in a fortnight, Rachel and I were humbled, but regret we must remain here to care for the farm. Please do write and tell us about its success. Thank you again. Send Anne our enduring love. Sincerely, Marilla Cuthbert.”

A tear had dropped on the page, and Anne brushed it aside before it run any of the ink. She sat quiet for a moment, rubbing the textured parchment in her fingers, almost as if she could feel the essence of Green Gables.

“You wrote her for me?” she whispered in a raspy voice. Gilbert’s eyes on her were tender, but he stayed where he was, allowing her the space to breathe and process.

“I know how much her last letter hurt you,” he said. “I saw the way you were together. You’re not meant to be apart like that. She’s your mother.”

Anne swallowed, biting back an onslaught of love. For Marilla, the rare mother she never expected but cared for with her whole soul. And for Gilbert, this gentle, compassionate man who seemed to speak the language of her soul.

“You did this for me?” she repeated - slower, quieter. Gilbert’s gaze was reverent and steady as he replied.

“Yes, my love. I did it for you.”

They had both ventured a step into each other’s world’s, vulnerable and bare. There was no going back now, but Anne was ready to leap forward. She placed her hand on his, willing him toward her. Gilbert gave into the gravitation, sighing in blissful surrender as she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his. His arms were about her, tugging her flush against his chest where their beating hearts were side by side. He kissed the breath from her, admiring how she tasted the way roses smelled and was the softest thing he’d ever held.

Anne all but evaporated into a euphoric autumn breeze, faintly wondering if she had ever felt this safe and loved. There was only the musky scent of this man -  her lover, she realized- and his tender caress. She was ready to be consumed by its delight, and love him even more in return.

He pulled away, only to lean back in for a few more short kisses, but found it difficult to grin with the full extent of his happiness and kiss her at the same time. Anne pressed her forehead to his, running her thumb over his cheek.

“My love,” she tasted on her tongue. Her lips found his cheek, rough with the first hints of a beard. “ _Gilbert_.”

A joyous laugh left his lips, and he looked into her eyes, dark and glittering as the night. All noise faded away, leaving Gilbert with his heart thumping in his ear, yearning to just stay in his embrace for the rest of his existence.

“I didn’t know! I certainly _hoped_ , but I didn’t know,” he admitted with a choked up, little laugh. She heard the full admission - _I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t know you loved me._  

“I’ll tell you all you’d like now,” she replied, an ardent quality taking over her entire being.

“Right now?” he wished. A breeze swept past them, and Anne allowed it to sway it back to his face. She wasn’t afraid or overwhelmed. She was too full of bliss to feel anything but.

“I’m in love with you,” she confessed. “I love you, Gil.”

This time he kissed her, swept her back up into his arms so quickly that a gasp escaped her, and showed her what the words did to him. Somehow she’d wound up partly in his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and hands anchored in his hair. He only pulled back enough to whisper his own reverent confession to her. The words danced across her mouth, sweet and soft.

“I love you too,” he replied. “I’ve loved you since you pulled me out of that ocean, and I’ve loved you every second since. Maddeningly, Anne, you drive me crazy.”

Anne pulled herself to him that she might hide her face-splitting smile in the crook of his neck. Is this ecstasy what it it was like to be Gilbert Blythe’s, for him to be hers?

“Well, doctor, have you any remedy for that sort of madness?”

“Oh certainly,” he breathed huskily. “More kisses.”

The rest of their rendezvous had a light, relieved air to it - secrets lifted from both of their shoulders, their pasts confronted and conquered. They ate without rush, content to sit side by side facing each other. How wonderful it was, they delighted together, that they could kiss and speak the way lovers do instead of simply daydreaming about it.

When the day had stretched to its limits, Gilbert offered Anne a hand back into the rowboat and brought them back to their palace of a home. He followed each of his father’s rules of courting - walk the girl to her door, offer a compliment so she remembers you, kiss her, and say goodnight. Mostly, he thought he did his father proud, even if he did press his sunset haired Persephone to her door to kiss her enough that she was liquid gold from head to toe.

In a carefree world, he’d have gone to his bedroom, sat near the bay window, and thought about the magic of the day until dawnbreak, but instead, he went to Bash’s office.

His brother knew something had happened the second he’d walked in the door.

“Oh, I’d know the expression of a lovesick moke anyday,”  Bash teased, glancing up from his paperwork to the blushing man grinning in the doorway. “Did Anne smile at you pretty?”

“She did more than that,” Gilbert murmured, coming to sit on the arm of one of the office couches. “She kissed me and told me she loves me.”

He spoke almost soundlessly, but Bash had heard everything he needed to. The older man’s smile was tortured, realistic.

“You’ve been crazy about her since you met her, so I’m _thrilled_ for you brother, I am.”

Gilbert fell back onto the couch in a dramatic heap, covering his face and sighing.

“You should’ve seen her, Bash, standing in the trees like she was mother nature herself. I thought I was going to perish. And the way she _speaks!_ Have you ever heard anyone speak pure gold?”

“Blythe-”

“And you’ve seen her with the boys. They adore her! Crave her approval like they’ll starve without it.” Gilbert’s arms fell down beside him in surrender. “She’s it, Bash. You were right, I’m crazy about her. I’m sorry I ever said you were wrong.”

“Gilbert,” Bash said seriously. “Tell me you haven’t forgotten-”

“I haven’t!” Gilbert shot up on the couch, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. “That’s what I came to talk to you about tonight. There’s got to be _something_ you can do. You’ve always found a loophole before. What’s one more for your lovesick brother?”

Bash was a long time in answering.

“I can try, but your engagement to Christine was one of your father’s dying wishes. She’s wearing _your_ ring. Mary told me Anne knows nothing about the Stuarts.”

“If Dad met Anne, he’d _know_ why I can’t marry Christine. He made me promise to go through with the arranged engagement for business reasons, not because he wanted me to fall in love with her. And I won’t, I know I won’t.”

“The terms of your engagement are clear. If you break off with your engagement to Christine, the harbor will take a hit you know it won’t sustain.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Gilbert pleaded, coming up to the desk, pulling his chair up as far as it would go. “I’m asking you, as your brother and best friend, for your legal expertise to marry the woman I _love,_ not the woman my father thought I should spend my life with. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

What else could Bash say to the boy who befriended him, took him in, shared half his estate with, and loved him as if he were flesh and blood?

“I’ll do my best, but I’m telling you, Gil, you need to tell her.”

“I will, I will!” Gilbert swore. “Now, don’t you want to hear about it?”

Bash took off his readers, folded them onto the desk, and grinned.

“Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will be sometime next week, as I try to add the finishing touches to the ending! Thank you all for sticking with me this far, all my love! If you want to come chat, I'm on tumblr - @royalcordelia ♥


	5. Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I thought this story was going to be a oneshot? This will be the last chapter, followed by a short little epilogue!

“I don’t know, Anne, I think you should have let him buy you the dress,” Diana said with a quirk in her eyebrow. Her pretty, round eyes were focused on the auburn gold strands of Anne’s hair as she stuck pins in strategic locations. “Let the man who loves you spoil you a little!”

“He _does_ spoil me,” Anne argued, watching Diana work in the vanity mirror. “Almost too much. He pays me a teaching salary that is more than what _any_ schoolmarm on the Island earns, I’m sure. He doesn’t ask me to pay for my board, meals, other necessary expenses. I couldn’t ask him to buy me a gown for this ball when I have a more than sufficient amount saved away. And that’s _after_ I sent some home Marilla and Mrs. Lynde.”

“The eleven-year-old Anne I knew would be kicking you in the foot right now. You’ve become very practical.”

Anne laughed. It felt so good to have Diana here with her, finally together in the home that she loved, at the charity ball she’d helped organize. The distance between them had felt great over the past months, and letters fell dreadfully short to the real thing.

“I have become practical haven’t I? I hardly recognize myself sometimes, but then I take the boys out to learn about the weather or go walking with Gil through the woods and I’m Anne the Dreamer all over again. Perhaps that is what it is to grow up?”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone who lets you be yourself,” Diana replied, pulling back and examining her work for small mistakes. “I can’t wait to meet him. Is he really as handsome as they say?”

Anne blushed, tucking her shy smile into her hands and looking away.

“Tease all you want, Diana, but when you meet _your_ Prince Charming tonight, you can expect to be paid back sevenfold.”

With a dramatic sigh, Diana crossed Anne’s warm seaside room to where her bag was positioned on the window seat.

“I’d endure a lifetime of your teasing if it meant I could find a man like yours, Anne. Tell me, is kissing a man as terribly breathtaking as the storybooks said?”

“Yes,” Anne said quietly. “But the ones that make you weak are the ones when you’re completely alone.”

“Anne Shirley! You mean to tell me you’ve been kissing Dr. Blythe _alone_ to the point  of weakened knees!?” Diana spun around, her bag’s search quickly forgotten.

“He’s often busy!” Anne quickly defended. “So when we see each other, he’ll pull me into some quiet corner that shields us.” Seeing that this explanation did not aid her case, she quickly began to pack away her hair supplies. Diana merely rose her brow at Anne and continued looking through her traveling bag.

When she turned around, she held a long narrow box in her palm. “I know you didn’t ask for me to bring this, but I thought I might just in case.”

“What is it, dearest?” Anne said, rising to meet her.

“Uh uh uh, Anne-girl, stay put. It’s princess treatment tonight.”

With a humble smile, the redheaded royal turned to face the front, examining the reflection as if it were a long lost friend, so long lost that she almost seemed like a stranger. Who was that beautiful, dignified woman that stared back at her with mystified eyes. Who was she, with the sunset spun curls pinned atop her head and the face of ivory?

When Diana fell in place behind her, she realized the contents of the box.

“The pearls Matthew gave me,” she whispered reverently. “How did you know they would match the dress?”

Diana brought the string of rare jewels over Anne’s neck, clasping it in the back and letting them fall gently across the expanse of Anne’s throat.

“Pearls partner well with anything, dearest. There’s one more thing.” Anne peered over her shoulder at her friend, but Diana only shrugged and pulled out another box, this one the size of a matchbox. “I was told to give you this. It’s from Doctor Blythe.”  

Anne hesitated to open it, wondering if maybe having a wealthy man wasn’t as satisfying as she had dreamed it would be. After all, he’d gone to all this trouble for _her?_ And what did she have to give to him? She forced herself to take a deep breath, exhaling so hard that the curls on the side of her face flew up. Love wasn’t about _things_. Anne knew that, and Gilbert did too. The tiny box with its darling mysteries wasn’t a present for the sake of gift-giving, and that’s why Anne finally lifted the lid.

It was an oval cameo brooch of a gentle pastel pink. In the middle, carved out bright ivory shell was a bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley. Anne brought the beloved treasure up closer to her face as she found more and more details - each little protruding petal, each wilting leaf.

“It’s beautiful, Anne. Would you like to wear it?” Diana prodded gently, knowing that Anne might need some guidance out of the dreamland of her mind. Anne blinked and smiled.

“I do believe I will wear it,” she said.

“I was wondering why he hadn’t sent you flowers,” Diana mused. “I suppose in his own way, he has.”

Anne felt the evidence of her own lovesickness show on her face, not caring in the slightest if Diana saw just how taken she was. With an almost shameful amount of pride and satisfaction, she pinned the brooch to the front of her mint green gown. It matched perfectly the applique flowers of the same blushy, white tones and for a moment Anne was unsure if she was looking at herself or if some fairy like queen had replaced her. Her brooch was prominent in its regality above her left breast. Let the world see that the kind hearted, beloved doctor was hers! She’d sing it to anyone who asked, a joyous song of how good it felt to love, and to be loved in return.

*#*#*

It was Anne’s idea that the schoolboys help decorate the estate in preparation for its company. When they’d gone into the fields earlier in the day to pluck flowers, she’d been the recipient of about half a dozen _Do we have to?_ s and _Picking flowers is for ninnies!_ However, dutiful, soft hearted Paul Irving led by example, impressing teacher with his enchanting arrangement. Soon, all the boys were begrudgingly - yet secretly somewhat enjoying - combing through the tall grass for hidden gems that would make teacher smile. Now the house was lined with them, a sight to behold for even extravagant company.  

Guests were already beginning to pour in from the long driveway, a dozen carriages a minute carrying Eastern Canada’s most prestigious elite. At the top of the stairwell, Anne watched the women’s skirts swirl across the floor like wispy cirrus clouds, suddenly overcome with the fragrance of expensive perfume.

Dr. Gilbert Blythe stood in his wide entryway, welcoming guests personally as they entered. He’d told Anne he’d be wearing his best suit, making it hard for her to picture if his other suits, with their starched perfection, weren’t his best. Sure enough, every stitch of Gilbert’s attire was finely sewn, fitted to each line and contour of him. He’d slicked back his rebellious brown curls so that they matched the rest of his refined appearance.

“Is that him?” Diana asked beside her in an amazed murmur. Gilbert chose that moment to catch sight of the women there at the top of the stairs, and the pretense of hospitality left his face. In that moment, Anne felt the Selene to Gilbert’s Endymion - the picture of glowing illuminance gazed upon in surrendering devotion.

“Yes,” Anne said with a joyous smile as they began to descend. “Come Diana, there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

He met them there with a courteous bow, though his eyes never left the redheaded dryad dressed in green.

“You’re breathtaking, Anne,” he murmured with a honeyed voice. Anne could feel the gravitation between them, magnetic and strong, allowing Gilbert to take her lightly into his arms and press a kiss to her cheek. He lingered there, long enough that Anne could get a trace of his spicy, earthy scent. He leaned back, holding Anne’s pale in his own. “You must be Miss Barry! It’s an honor to meet the object of Anne’s high esteem.”

“Dr. Blythe, I had intended to say the same to you. Thank you for inviting me tonight. It’s been some time since I’ve been somewhere quite so beautiful.”

Before the good doctor could say his charming reply, Mr. Laurents came up and whispered something in his ear. Gilbert’s grip tightened on Anne’s hand as he looked up at the butler with furrowed brows.

“And Bash has already spoken with them?” he asked.

“Twice, and Mrs. LaCroix did too,” Laurents answered.

Sensing her eyes on the back of his neck, Gilbert turned to Anne.

“The boys have decided they don’t want to come out and face the guests tonight,” he explained. Understanding ran through Anne, and for a few seconds she was back at the orphan asylum with pitying families staring down at her as if she were an injured dog up for adoption. “I just hoped they’d come out so that the guests would see them as _boys_ and not the moral less rabble they are thought to be.”

“Would you like me to go speak with them? I might be able to change their minds.”

“No, I’d like to speak to them. Men to men. Besides, I’m an orphan too, you know. You and Diana enjoy the party. I hear the food is delicious, Mary has been planning the menu for days.”

“I want to help, Gil. How about I stay and welcome the guests?”

The doctor let out a relieved sigh, a weight lifting off of his shoulders.

“Darling, you are astounding.” He paused, his fingers rubbing against the palms of his own hands as an odd expression crossed over him. “I’ve something to tell you. May I steal you away for just a moment before we get swept up in ball pleasantries and dances?”

“Of course,” Anne said, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Are you alright?”

Without response, he gave a nod to Diana, took Anne’s hand, and led her down one of the quiet hallways. Only a few of the wall lamps were lit, reminding Anne of all the moments they’d spent in the dusk together. Before Anne could question just what the meaning of their sudden escape was, she was being swept behind a marble pillar and held in the warmth of his hands. A gasp escaped her as his dark eyes ran up at down the sides of her waist. His eyes searched hers, a silent question of _May I?_

Anne’s response was her hands falling gently behind his neck, her fingers tugging the ends of his curls in the way that made him keen. She pushed herself up onto her toes, but Gilbert met her halfway, capturing her lips in a kiss that rivaled all the came before it. The soft lines of her were pressed against his firm chest, a feeling of being enraptured that swept Anne off her feet and made her lean into him even more.

“Why the sudden ardour, doctor?” she asked the second he freed her lips to taste the skin behind her neck, chest heaving against his. His answer came in between kisses, a finger trailing up her spine. Sparks erupted with this touch, and Anne could only succumb to the pleasure of it.

“Because, my love, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve seen. Because you’re easily one of the most intelligent, brave, strong people I know. Because this marvelous, important night we have planned was your idea, and it’s going to be a thrilling success. I’m...happy and proud beyond words.” He ran the back of his fingers down the sides of her torso, grazing the swell of her breast and settling on her waist. “But most of all, I pulled you away because I’ve been too busy today to show you how much I love you.”

“I surely haven’t forgotten,” Anne retorted, half-heartedly.

“Surely not, but only because of my steady reminders. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” she beamed. “It gives me a chance to give some reminders of my own.”

Gilbert’s eyes darkened, but before he could lose himself in another passionate moment, he pulled himself back and offered his hand to her.

“I hear there are some boys that need some inspiration. You and I have important posts to return to.”

Ignoring the flush on her skin under each freckle that Gilbert had kissed, Anne straightened her back to refine herself, and let him pull her back away into the boisterous hall.

*#*#*

Anne met more people greeting them as they flooded into the estate than she suspected lived in Avonlea. As she shook what felt like the hundreth hand to walk in that minute, she remembered that Gilbert had mentioned that he knew each one of the guests. _Most of them I know personally,_ he had said. _You wouldn’t believe the amount of people I know, it’s exhausting._ Anne suddenly understood, and she’d only been welcoming for twenty minutes. The rush of people seemed to be arriving, a tide of extravagance, wide skirts, and jewels.

Before she could be swept away into the sea of wealth, Anne’s eyes fell on a resplendent woman stepping into the hall as if she’d been here a thousand times before. She had kind eyes of moonshine blue and dark black hair that rivaled even Diana’s. She was the Cordelia of Anne’s childhood imaginations, radiant in beauty and poise.  

Anne was just about offer her warmest, if not utterly star struck, welcome, when the women rushed up to her.

“Good evening, miss. I was wondering if you might know where Doctor Blythe is. I simply must speak with him,” she said in a saccharine voice that suited only those of the utmost loveliness.

“I’m afraid he’s disposed at the moment. Are you ill, dear?” Anne replied. The woman was quick to shake her head, but frowned as she struggled to find the right words. A memory flashed in Anne’s mind of a similar situation that brought her here, though she hadn’t looked nearly as enchanting in such a state. She reached for the woman’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll go find him for you. Whom may I ask is calling?”

The woman took a comforted breath, a thankful smile on her face.

“My name is Christine Stuart. I’m the doctor’s fiance.”

Anne’s heart turned to stone, the rest of her body following as she froze where she stood. Slowly, she dropped Christine’s hand and took a small step back.

“I’m sorry...I must have misunderstood,” Anne said in a voice that was not her own. Christine gave a kind smile.

“Not many people know, it’s been quite some time since it began. Who might you be, dear?”

Anne opened her mouth but no sound came out. She felt her cheeks lit up in flames, her throat closing out any sound. Christine’s smile began to falter, when a voice broke in.

“Anne?”

Both women turned to see Dr. Gilbert Blythe approaching with a triumphant spring in his step, but when he realized just what he was looking at, he halted.

“Gilbert, dear, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Christine cried out, placing her hand on his arm. “You’re just the man I was looking for. I’ve just met the charming Anne.”

“I...I wasn’t expecting you, Christine,” he sputtered.

“Oh I know, but I thought you might be able to make some accommodations if I stay a few days. You don’t mind terribly much if I impose, do you?”

Gilbert looked at Anne, whose face had hardened into solid ice. He tried to send her silent messages of _Please allow me to explain_ and _I’m so sorry,_ but she refused to look him in the eye.

“There’s no where in the house for you and all the hotels are full. I don’t have anywhere for you,” he began to explain, but was cut off when Anne finally spoke.

“There is somewhere,” she said flatly. “She can stay in my room. I’m leaving.”

Anne felt like taking one of the glasses of wine passing by on a tray and dumping it all over his pristine, expensive suit. She felt like slapping him across his face, tearing off her brooch and stomping it to dust under her feet. She wanted to stand in the middle of the ballroom and shout to the world that Gilbert Blythe was the _worst,_ most untrustworthy, horrible, cold-hearted men she’d ever met - _ever_. She wanted to pull him into one of their dark alcoves, get breaths away from his face, and whisper to him that she should have let him drown that day.

But most of all, she wanted to return to that sweet moment less than an hour ago, when she was pressed tight up against his chest. He’d whisper of his love over and over and over and over until the party was over and all traces of Christine Stuart were gone. But there was no taking it all back now, no magic that could erase the agony that throbbed through her like an acidic poison.

So instead of doing all the things she wanted to, she decided to do the thing she wanted to least. She turned on her heels and left them standing there in her dust, cursing the moment she ever laid eyes on the sailor who called her siren.

He might’ve been calling after her as she set out in search for Diana - or maybe she just imagined it - but refused to stop. She wouldn’t let him explain. She refused to even let him _think_ about justifying why he-

There was Diana, she thought with relief, sitting on a bench against the wall. Her longest, most wonderful, faithful friend looked up to see Anne’s pale trembling form before her.

“Anne?” Diana asked nervously, leaving behind her bench crossing over to her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Diana,” Anne murmured, feeling the rock in her throat opening enough to let some words out. “Can we go home?”

“Home? To _Avonlea_? Anne what-“

Anne reached out and grabbed Diana’s hand, pulling her through the crowd of partygoers toward the side staircase. They managed to nearly get the entire way when a voice broke through the noise.

“Anne! _Anne_!”

She sent Diana an agonized expression, then darted up the stairs. Before she could follow, she was faced with a frantic, equally pained Gilbert.

“Diana, _please_ , I have to talk to her. It isn’t what she thinks!”

As Diana hurried to collect her thoughts, Gilbert attempted to break past her up the stairs. Diana was faster though, sticking her arm up and fixing Gilbert with a glare of blades and fire.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, but stay away from her. You’ve clearly done enough.” She tore away after Anne before he could say any more.

When she entered Anne’s seaside room, she found her friend standing in the window with her arms crossed over herself, trembling at her own reflection. She was a silhouette of the person she was just hours ago, soft edges that seemed to be dissipating away. Something was ending, but only Anne knew what it was.

“Anne? Honey?”

Then, Anne lowered her head, let out a devastated moan, and began to weep. Every choked sob echoed across the room as she covered her face, blocking her own reflection in the window. How could she look at herself - the woman who was played the fool, the woman who’d allowed herself to be a rich man’s plaything? She was ashamed. Marilla had been right.

Diana held her as she cried, cradling Anne’s head in her bosom until the broken woman had released enough of her anguish to form a single sentence.

“Take me home.”

Diana still didn’t know much about what had transpired with Gilbert, but she’d not seen Anne this heartbroken since Matthew’s unexpected death. All she knew was that Anne’s pain was hers, and to deny Anne this would be like running her through. Pressing a kiss to Anne’s bowed head, Diana nodded.

“Alright, kindred spirit. I’ll pack your things for you, and then we’ll go home.”

Gilbert was waiting from them at the bottom of the staircase when they finally came down. Diana, her bags in one hand and Anne’s in another, pushed past the doctor when he surged forward. She was nearly out of the threshold of the house when she turned and found Anne had frozen the second she looked at Gilbert.

Anne wished that time would stop and take Gilbert with it so that she might sneak past him and pretend she’d never come in the first place. It was hard enough to wade through the haze her heartbreak had drawn up around her, but to face him was too much.

“Anne, please my love, let me tell you the truth,” he pleaded, taking a step toward her when he saw that she had locked her words tightly inside of her. But Anne had heard more than she wanted to. She heard enough to unlock her aptitud for words just long enough to leave him with one parting gift.

“The _truth?”_ she sneered. _“_ The truth, _Dr. Blythe,_ is that you’ve been lying to me since the day we met. You lied about who you were, about _what_ you were! It’s been up to me to find out for myself, and here’s what I think! I think you’re just like every other rich man, using things easily obtained for entertainment and discarding them when you grow bored. What’s more, I’m willing to bet you lied about ever loving me, and for that….” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t say anything that came to her mind to follow. “For that, _I_ will be the one to pay the price. I will be the one to bear the pain.”

She yanked the brooch off of her dress and shove it into his hand, barely noticing the way the green fabric had torn and the sharp pin of the brooch scratched across his hand.

Then, she grabbed Diana’s hand, and left all the things she loved glistening under bright electric lights of the Blythe Estate behind her.

*#*#*

They didn’t make it far. Shivering in the evening breeze, Anne brought her arms back up around herself and blinked back the next onrush of tears. As they walked down toward the road, a group of gentleman sauntered up toward the house. In the dark, it was hard to make out of the details of their attire, and to an unfocused eye, it appeared as though the they truly were party guests late to the festivities.

But then Anne recognized the way they walked  - the way of an islander, the way of someone born and reared in Avonlea.

“That can’t be Diana Barry and the Cuthbert’s orphan,” a familiar voice called out. The blood in Anne’s veins turned to ice, and for just a moment, she forgot all about her heartache.

“Billy Andrews wearing a suit? I do say wonders never cease,” Diana mused, not stopping as Billy’s group halted in the driveway. “Good evening, gentlemen, we’ll be on our way.”

“Can we carry your bags for you ladies? They look heavy.”

“ _No,”_ Anne forced out, unable to mask the terror to Diana.

“We’re quite capable,” Diana amended, picking up the pace to match Anne’s quickening one.

“Suit yourself. Bumpkins like Anne don’t belong at events like these anyway. Bet they turned you away at the door.”

Anne clenched her fists, but refused to turn around or answer.

“Keep walking, Diana,” she murmured in a voice so quiet it was nearly carried away on a breeze. When the babbling of Avonlea boys had disappeared into nothingness behind them, Anne reached out to grab Diana’s wrist.

“We have to go back,” she rushed out.

“What? I thought something happened with-”

“Something _did_ happen,” Anne bit out, tears welling up in her eyes faster than she could blink them back or brush them aside. “But this is more important. You have to trust me. We need to go back!”

She spun on her heels to head back up the hill, but Diana grabbed her wrist before she could make it very far.

“Look, Anne, I’m with you anywhere, through anything. But you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Anne felt a gust of wind sweep through her skirts, loose strands of hair ticking the skin at the back of her neck. The whole world seemed to be vibrating around her, like a ticking bomb counting down second by second until the inevitable destruction.

“Billy Andrews wants to kill Gilbert. I heard him say so in Avonlea.”

“ _What?_ Anne, that’s ridiculous.” Diana’s jaw had dropped.

“I heard the words leave his mouth as clearly as I can hear you now! Look Di, it’s complicated-”

“Then explain it!”

So Anne explained the whole story quickly, and Diana listened as closely as she could shivering in the mid autumn cold. Anne confessed knowing about Billy’s plans since before she came to the Glen, about telling Gilbert, about staying even after she told Gilbert because - as much as she wanted to work and teach - part of her would always ache to make sure he was okay.

“And what happened tonight?”

Anne let a single tear escape her eyes as she swallowed.

“Gilbert is already engaged. He has been. I met her tonight.”

Diana stumbled back as she comprehended Anne’s words. If she could feel the hammer in her own ribs pounding a crack into her heart, she could only imagine how Anne felt.

“That’s...Wow. And you want to protect him even though he broke your heart?”

Anne nodded, a resolute determination falling over her, like a mythical heroine of old. Even with auburn brows furrowed together in heartache and her figure trembling in the chill, she was steadfast and solid in her resolve.

“I ache so terribly, worse than I ever knew I could, but I don’t want him hurt. I _know_ it’s why Billy is here tonight, I just do, Di.”

Diana’s eyes drifted the expanse of dark forests beside them, their wide expanse of unknown territory under the thick concealing blanket of orange leaves. Her mind was reeling, and she spent a moment trying to collect each one of her chaotic thoughts.

“Alright,” she said finally. “What do you plan to do?”

Anne’s green eyes flashed in the dark.

“Whatever it takes to stop him.”

*#*#*

As Anne crept into the ballroom, she couldn’t help but spare a thought to how lovely the evening had turned out. It was everything her imagination had conjured and more, with its brilliantly lit chandeliers, waves of music echoing off of the high walls, and laughter rising above every sound as dancers waltzed and whirled around like spinning tops.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Diana asked, just behind her.

Anne almost answered that no, she didn’t see Gilbert anywhere. He wasn’t dancing with any of the guests, nor was he with Bash in the corner - where had he gone? But then she remembered they had come back in for a different man, and began to scan the crowd for Billy Andrews. It would’ve been easy to spot him if he were here, since he could hardly hope to blend in with the sophisticated crowd. His hair would be too messy, his gait too unrestricted, his dancing too unrefined.

A sick feeling settled over Anne. If both Gilbert and Billy Andrews were nowhere to be seen, did they mean they had already found each other? Gilbert surely had no defense against Billy if he made good on his promise to bring a rifle.

“I don’t see him,” Anne nearly whimpered. She scanned the crowd one last time, then let her eyes linger to the second floor of the ballroom. It was accessible through the grand stairwell in the front of the room, and led up to balcony type passageways running along the sides of the walls and overlooking the main floor. A handful of party goers could go up and watch down over dancing couples if they needed a minutes rest. Maybe Billy had…

There he was! Anne thought with a start. He was up on the balcony, whispering something - instructions? - to one of them men he had come in with. From so far away, it was hopeless to try to make out what they were saying, but Anne was able to see Billy nod toward the thick rope that ran all the way up the wall to the chandelier and then hand his friend a knife.

“He’s going to cut the line to the chandelier!” Anne murmured to Diana in a rush. Diana’s gaze followed Anne’s and she let out a gasp.

“Is he crazy?” Diana cried out. “We should find someone to stop him! Isn’t that Gilbert’s brother up against the wall?”

“No, there isn’t enough time!”

Before Diana could stop her, Anne took off into the crowd, eyes locked to the boys up on the balcony. Somewhere between her struggle to navigate the masses, she misses Billy Andrews depart. Then, she caught a flash of his blonde hair descending the stairwell slowly and thoughtfully. She was quick to counter out of sight, waiting until he was out of sight to hurry up the stairs. The man had already begun sawing at the lines, and Anne could see the chandelier shaking as if there was a small earthquake in the room. If she confronted him from the front, sure enough he would turn the blade on her. Maybe she could sneak around behind him, and stop him from behind.

Anne crept along the edge of the balcony, taking the long way to the other side and turning herself into an unnoticeable sight in order to blend in with the shadows. As she neared closer and closer to the man cutting the line, she focused on steadying her breathing and quieting her steps. Just before she reached him, she grabbed a heavy floral vase from a nearby pedestal, clutching it so hard in her hands that her knuckles turned a terrified white. She was so close to him then that she could smell the beer coming from his pores.

Then, with shaking hands, Anne lifted the vase and brought it down upon his head as hard as she could manage. The man let out a grunt, collapsing to the ground in a heap of drunken unconsciousness. Frantic eyes turned to the chandelier line, which had been nearly sawed all the way through, but if let untouched, might be able to withstand the damage. Grabbing the short knife from the man and hiding it in one of her boots.

She rushed to the edge of the balcony, scanning the crowd for Billy Andrews. He was up against the wall, staring curiously at the chandelier, wondering why it hadn’t descended upon the guests yet. He shifted as if he was seconds away from coming up to investigate himself, when suddenly the music stopped and a voice rose above the crowd, partnered by a tap of a glass.

“Good evening everyone!” Gilbert said with delight that Anne sensed was forced. Billy stopped in his tracks, knowing that if he tried to sneak up the balcony stairs, he’d certainly be seen by everyone gazing upon their host. But this had been Anne’s home for nearly six months now. She knew of the small little passageway that led back down into the foyer, making it possible to reenter the crowd from behind. With everyone’s attention pulled away to Gilbert, she hurried down the line of the balcony, through the foyer, and back into the crowds amassing to hear Gilbert give his speech.

“I am delighted to see so many of my cherished friends here tonight! I am doubly delighted that the evening has already been filled with such pleasant revelry. I would like to interrupt, if I may, for a short time to tell you all the purpose of this event tonight.”

Through the aching pounding in Anne’s heart, she glanced over at Billy, who had begun a nonchalant saunter to the center of the crowd, directly in line of Gilbert.

“Someone very important to me recently advised me to let go of the hurt of the past in favor of enjoying the blessings of the present. I’d like to share with you some of that joy, if I may. Come on then, lads.” At his cue, forty-three boys filtered in behind Gilbert, wide, fearful eyes staring out at the audience who knew not yet to love them. Anne felt her chest swell with a strong pride - how brave these boys were, how brave and kind and true they all had grown to be. “These are the wonderful young men that I adopted from the St. Anthony’s Orphan Asylum. They are my greatest pride, strong in their goodness and courage. When my father passed away, I wondered how my life would have been different if  I had grown up an orphan, so I sought to see myself.”

He wrapped an arm around the two boys closest to him, smiling warmly when Paul Irving hid his face into Gilbert’s coat.

“I came home with forty-three of the finest young gentleman I’ve ever met. My brother thought I was insane.” Chuckles bubbled around the room. “But it was one of my biggest delights to give these boys a family, to provide for them the same thing we all have now. A comfortable home, food on the table, an education, and most important, someone to love them. That is why I invited you here tonight. I’m standing before you now, humbly asking you to share the blessings of your present with the boys of Saint Anthony’s, so that they might be the blessings of their future.”

The crowd was acutely aware of the boys staring back at them with their guarded faces and wide, hopeful eyes. Anne herself, felt the shared kindred connection with every child in the room who’d ever lost their parents.

“Tonight isn’t just a call for donations, though any small amount helps. I hoped that tonight, I could encourage all my wonderful friends to find some way to share the love in their lives. Write letters to the boys, make visits, send them sweeties on holidays, and certainly take one home if you feel compelled to open your home like I did mine.”

Gilbert’s eyes scanned the crowd as he tried to meet as many people as he could in the eye. When his gaze fell on Anne, he faltered, the brave smile on his face nearly disappearing altogether. Anne knew him enough to see the sudden torment that raged in him, suddenly frozen to the ground herself. But then she jerked her head to where Billy Andrews was standing, sending the strongest warning she could muster out of her entire being. Gilbert glanced over, startled, but missed the warning’s message.

The pause seemed to be the perfect opportunity for Billy. Anne watched in horror as Billy reached a hand slowly into a hidden pocket in his jacket and retrieved a small revolver. Where had he gotten one of _those_? Anne’s mind grasped around desperately for something to do, something to stop him, but came up empty handed.

“There has been some question as to whether or not I intend to keep my estate,” Gilbert continued carefully, venturing onto a path with his speech that he had not rehearsed with Anne. Adrenaline began to course through her, as if lightning had been flashed and now all that was left was to wait for the impending thunder. Gilbert tightened his grasp on the boys, squaring his shoulders to face a force he knew not. “These rumors and hopes have been ill founded. I intend to keep my estate well into the future, for the sake of my patients, for the sake of this community and its harbor, and for the sake of these boys, for whom I vowed to provide for. Of that, you may be sure.”

A growl sounded from the middle of the crowd. Anne’s head whirled around to see Billy Andrews taking a few steps forward. He rose his arm, revealing the gun with its target set directly on Gilbert, half-dimmed metal reflecting the brilliant yellow light like a warning. There was no way to reach Billy in time, Anne lamented, feeling her senses roar to life, instinct taking over her limbs. She’d failed this time, she’d been too late.

Fate was prepared to prove to her otherwise.

Just as Billy emitted a roar of fury, Anne surged forward with all the strength and speed she could muster. She cried out a heart wrenching _“No!”_ as she collided with Billy, pushing his arms so that the barrel of the gun was aimed at the ceiling the second he pulled the trigger.  

A thunderous _BANG_ echoed across the hall, sending all the party guests to their knees, covering their heads with their hands. The resonance of the shot echoing into eternity around them was the only sound as every heart waited with baited breath for what might happen next.

Gilbert stood before them, the only one standing, shielding the boys with the wingspan of his arms and a stunned expression on his face when he looked upon Anne. The collision with Anne had knocked Billy off of his feet enough to send him tumbling to the ground, sending the revolver across the floor into Bash’s waiting hands. Yanking the weapon from the ground, Bash rushed forward, ready to collect Billy for imprisonment himself, but a sound creaked over them, like a rocking ship of aged wood.

 _The chandelier -_ Anne remembered with a jolt. Sure enough, Billy’s shot had cracked a section of the high ceiling where the chandelier was hung. With the rope that held the fixture already strained with too much tension, the shot had been all that was needed to snap the rope.

Gilbert yelled, “ _Move!_ ” the second Anne herself had cried, “ _Get out of the way!_ ”

The crowd hurried back, but they were never in danger of the crash. Only Gilbert and the boys, who’d all seemed to get out of the way just in the nick of time.

All except Paul Irving.

Anne’s heart leaped into her chest at the sight of her favorite pupil staring up at the falling chandelier, petrified with terror. Now alight with determination, she raced forward and shielded Paul’s small body with her own. Gilbert was there too, his arms around both of them, pushing them to the side, just out of the way.

The chandelier hit the ground with the crash of a thousand tiny glass crystals shattering against the hard floor. Anne felt just as many tiny cuts line her arms as the shards flew around them, but it wasn’t until she lifted her head that she saw Gilbert had shoved them just out of line of the chandelier.

Everyone was afraid to breathe, afraid that something else might jump out of the woodwork to harm them. Gilbert was the first to raise himself, with shaking hands, he carefully helped Paul stand, giving him a quick glance for cuts and broken bones. He peered around the room at every pair of wide eyes that stared back at him in stunned amazement. No one had been hurt. They’d all gotten back far enough in time.

Then, he spun around to Anne, who’d a line of blood trickling from her forehead and cheek. The lines of his lashes turned moist as he shook his head in awe.

“You came back,” he murmured. “You saved me _again._ ”

“And _you_ saved _me_ ,” she replied just as quietly.

The crowd around them had blurred into nothingness - there was only light, the hazel of his eyes, and that same magnetic pull between them that had been there from the first day of the storm. As reality befell upon her - Billy Andrews had failed, everything was alright, _Gilbert_ was alright - he swept her into his arms and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his lips pressing kisses to the side of her head and heard whispers of, “My love, oh my love.”

She’d almost forgotten about Christine - almost allowed herself to believe that the whole day had been just a horrible nightmare. Reality broke in before she could drift away too far.

“I’ll get you Blythe, if it’s the last goddamn thing I ever do!” Billy shouted. Anne’s head spun to look, heart clenching with fear for a recurrence of what had just transpired, but she was relieved to find the man being yanked away by Glen police officers. “You’ll rot in hell! Your orphan bastard trash will rot! Your whore will rot! Your colored-” The officer had heard enough, giving the man a strong hit over the head and promptly knocking him out so he could be dragged out to the carriage by his elbows. Diana was close behind them, racing through the stunned crowd into Anne’s arms.

“Anne, you do beat all! You’re alright, aren’t you?” she wept, squeezing her bosom friend with all the weak strength she could muster. “I went to find help the second you took off up those stairs! What happened here?”

Anne’s eyes fell on the ground where the last remnants of the chandelier laid askewed on the tile. Each step would result in a crack, and Anne was sure there were shards in her hair and skirts. She wondered just what _had_ happened. She turned her attention to the crowd, who was still too entranced by the chaos that had finally begun to settle.

“I don’t think we can begin to apologize for the strain you all have been through tonight. But that...” she pointed a finger at the door where Billy Andrews had been pulled away. “That is what happens when you let avarice strip you of your humanity. That is the fate of so many who are never given the chance to be good.”

Gilbert came up behind Anne, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll see anyone who has sustained physical injuries in my office. We understand if you’d like to get home to your beds and decompress after the tumult of the day. You are likely just as shocked as we are at tonight’s events, but I am deeply sorry just the same. Please have safe, comfortable travels home.”

The crowds began to filter out through the doors, many of them with odd expressions on their faces that Anne could not decipher. She expected they’d be appalled after the display shown tonight, expected to hear murmurs of “country ruffians,” but instead, every single departing guest was lost in thought. Anne herself felt as though she was glued to the floor, like moving would force her to return to the reality that she was leaving. After all, with Billy likely locked up for good, Gilbert’s life was no longer in any danger, so there was no reason to stay.

“Miss Shirley!” a chorus of voices called, breaking her from her thoughts. Anne’s head snapped up to see all forty-three wonderful boys barrelling toward her. They each grabbed her where they could, some holding tight to her waist and her arms, others clutching at the pretty fabrics of her skirts.

“Are you boys alright?” she asked, checking them over each one by one. When she found Paul Irving, who had his teary cheeks buried in her side, she caressed the side of his head. “Dear, are _you_ alright? We had quite the fall, didn’t we?”

Paul’s sweet face looked back at her, little streaks of moisture trailing down the corners of his nose. “My wrist hurts,” he moaned quietly. Anne nodded understandably, holding up said wrist to see if it sustained any major injuries.

“I’ll take you to Dr. Blythe and he’ll take a look at it. How does that sound?” Paul nodded, anxious to be in the comfort of Gilbert’s company again. The doctor himself had snuck away as soon as he could, ready in his office to see to anyone needing treatment. “Are any more of you hurt?” Anne was met by forty-two shaking heads.

“Come on, Queen Anne,” Bash said, appearing from the side. “I was told to bring you up to see the doctor, something about a gash across your forehead.”

Anne reached a finger up to the area in question, and sure enough, they came back down with a hot smear of blood. She looked down at the expectant faces of the boys, and Paul Irving, and of Sebastian LaCroix, whose eyes told her that he understood her hesitation.

“Alright, let’s go see the doctor.”

*#*#*

“Well, this certainly has been an eventful evening,” Sebastian said, filling the silence of their short walk up to Gilbert’s office. He peered down at the Anne, whose eyes had fallen sad again, but she put on a brave face for the young boy clutching her hand.

“I’m only sorry that it turned out as poorly as it did,” she murmured.

“I can’t speak for _everything_ that has happened tonight, but you’ll be pleased to hear that we exceeded our anticipated amount of donations. Most of them came after...well, _after._ ”

Anne’s stunned face turned up to him.

“What- _How_ _?”_ she stammered. “I thought for sure Billy ruined all chances of us reaching the goal.”

“I did too, but I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. St. Anthony’s will be well taken care of for the next few years.” Bash slowed to a stop as they neared Gilbert’s door. “I haven’t told the doctor yet. Could you?”

A sick, nervous feeling settled in her stomach, but Anne nodded. Sebastian gave one last parting smile, with its own traces of sadness, then turned on his heel to leave. Before he walked two steps, he paused.

“Anne,” he said kindly. “Let him explain. It isn’t all you think.”

Throat closed in, Anne looked down at the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to let Gilbert explain. Could see endure sitting beside him while he told that she was only a passing infatuation, that his enduring love was for Christine Stuart? Oh, she wished there was another doctor in the Glen, she lamented. She had to brave this one last storm and seal the ending of everything her and Gilbert had been. As she had told him once, it was just another thing she’d have to mourn.

Knocking on the door, Anne took a deep breath and waited for it to open before her.

Her eyes were glued to the ground when it finally did swing open, and when she chanced a glance up at him, she fought the urge to let out of shuddering sob. How was it that after everything, she still loved him so? Her heart craved him as if he were water, or air, or peaceful summer days. How could she ever learn to break herself of him?

His amazement at seeing her did not go unnoticed, either, with his wide atlantic blue eyes and parted lips.

“ _Anne_ , you ca-” He glanced down at the young boy peeking out from behind her skirts. “Paul! Come in.”

Paul reached for the doctor’s hand and followed him in like a duckling, leaving Anne to trail in at her own agonized pace. Being in the office was its own torment, the ghosts of their last real conversation in the nearby alcove lingering like smoke from a blown out candle. Anne could still feel his lips on her neck, his words in her ear.   

“Have a seat, lad,” she heard Gilbert say behind her. “Where does it ache?”

Anne intended to stand with her back to them, memorizing the titles on the spines of Gilbert’s books on the shelves, but  was interrupted by a small voice.

“Miss Shirley, could you sit with me?”

A pang of love hit her when she met his pleading eyes. The poor boy had just had enough excitement for an entire lifetime, of course he was scared. Kneeling down before him, Anne nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Irving. You’ve been very brave, of course I’ll sit with you.” Then she spared Gilbert a neutral look. “I believe he sprained his wrist in the fall.”

“I’m sorry son, that’s my fault for pushing you so hard. I’m awful glad I did, though.”

“Me too,” Paul murmured, hissing when Gilbert tugged a little at Paul’s fingers. According to his assessment, the bone seemed alright, but the muscle had been strained when Paul reached his hand out to catch his fall. The three sat in silence as Gilbert’s skilled hands bound the injury, only pausing every now and again to gauge Paul’s pain and to give Anne a loaded look.

“Go find Mrs. LaCroix and she’ll give you some ice to put on it. If it still hurts tonight, come wake me up and I’ll give you something for the pain. How does that sound?” Gilbert asked.

Paul’s tears had subsided, the binding helping ease the inflammation, and he nodded. Kicking himself out of the chair he gave both doctor and teacher a thankful hug, then scurried out of the room, leaving Anne and Gilbert waiting in the tense silence. Anne could not bring herself to look at him, worried if she did, she’d take back everything she said - and she meant it! Every word! Biting the inside of her cheek, she pushed back the part of her that ached for her to throw her arms around him and say _Christine who?_

“Will you let me clean and bandage your cuts?” he asked cautiously. Anne nodded her head, keeping her eyes locked on the sea outside the window. She could hear him rummaging through his doctor’s things again, pulling out the disinfectant and the gauze.

“And then will you let me explain myself?” he said. Anne opened her mouth to refuse him, but he rushed to capture the pause. “Please, just let me tell you the truth about Christine and then if you want to leave this place and forget you ever met me, I’ll understand. I won’t stop you, no matter how much it’ll kill me to see you go.”

“Isn’t this unprofessional, doctor?” she stated stiffly.

“Yes, very,” he agreed, pressing a cotton ball to her cut. Anne hissed, recoiling a little, but tightening her hands. “But it’s a special case. Will you hear me out?”

Anne should’ve wanted to say _Absolutely not, you cretin,_ but really, she wanted answers. No amount of scorn or heartbreak was enough to mask her desire to know the truth.

“Alright,” Anne murmured. Gilbert, whose eyes had been fixed on bandaging her forehead, froze completely still. His breath shook as he took a deep inhale, and continued to work.

“There are some things I’m sure that you’ve noticed do not exactly add up about me. Why does my brother look completely different from me, when did I ever work as a teacher if I grew up in this house? They all have to do with Christine.”

Hearing her name made Anne’s throat close in, but if Gilbert noticed the tears filling her eyes, he said nothing. He simply allowed her to feel and listen as she might.

“When I was first approaching adulthood, my father had begun to take ill. It was the beginning of his very slow descent, but it also made him hyper aware of the responsibility that would befall me once he was gone. But to me, a very young man with dreams of his own, it just seemed like he was trying to control my life the same way he controlled the harbor’s finances. And because he was good with the harbor, I let him, thinking maybe he knew best, after all. I don’t think he meant to do it, but it was so much for him to take on.”

He gently took Anne’s arm, examining the small cuts for any tiny pieces of glass still remaining. His touch was gentle enough that Anne wondered if she could memorize how sweet it felt.

“I still believe that if we’d grown up in Avonlea like my mother wanted, we would’ve been happier,” he added with a taste of scorn. “While I was studying to go to medical school in the quiet corners of the house, my father was planning out every single detail of my future that would take place after he was gone.  One of those days, he pulled me into his office - _this_ office - and told me each plan one by one. I was to take over the harbor as business executive, and I was marry the daughter of Joseph Stuart, creating an alliance between the Kingsport Harbor that would safeguard the PEI farms who sent out exports. Without maintaining that business relationship, the tariffs to Nova Scotia would certainly make it impossible for the PEI businesses to keep up financially.”

Anne remembered the days when she was first living at Green Gables, when Matthew had paced across the kitchen anxiously about the struggling Carmody port. If it had gone under like Matthew thought it would, where would that have left them?

“I refused.” Anne’s eyes shot up to his. “My father got to have his dreams - to fall in love and marry the woman he adored, to be a successful businessman to provide for his family, to have a son that would follow directly in his footsteps. But I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a doctor, take care of the Glen and serve it faithfully. I wanted to find my own love, Anne, I wanted to find _you_. So I left home. I went to Queen’s Academy to get my teaching certificate, raised enough funds to go to college, and studied to be a doctor, just as I wanted.”

“Which school did you teach?” Anne asked quietly.

“A school in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia - a rural town.”

A tear trickled down Anne’s cheek and she sniffled weakly.

“That’s where I was born,” she admitted. Gilbert smiled, wiping away the tear with a tender touch.

“I loved Bolingbroke, and I loved learning to be a doctor even more. I was able to win the Cooper Prize, with provided me the rest of the funds to make it through medical school. I knew that even if it disappointed my father, I had to follow my own ambitions. I told you that I graduated five years ago, and I did, but shortly after, my father’s illness took a turn for the worse and I had to adjust my plans.”

He took her hands and stared into her eyes straight on.

“My father wanted to know that I was going to be alright when he died, and when I looked at him on his deathbed, I knew that I couldn’t go against his wishes. He begged me to go through with the engagement with Christine, to run the harbor. So I agreed, and I’ve regretted it ever since, because I _never_ wanted to be with Christine. I wanted to spend my life with someone who belonged in it. _You,_ sweetheart, I only ever wanted you.”

Anne clutched Gilbert’s hands, the ice around her heart starting to melt, replaced with his adorative warmth.

“I spent a year on a steamer, getting to know the lives of the people who were using the harbor and how the tariffs worked on a personal and business level. That’s where I met Bash. I invited him to come back and be my business partner and to be my brother. He married Mary a few months later, and we’ve been living here as a family ever since. We’ve all only ever seen Christine a few times.”

“I suppose that leaves the story up to date,” Anne murmured. “I just wish you had told me all of that sooner, before I had to look her in the eyes and hear that she’s your betrothed.”

“There’s a little more,” he admitted, biting back a hopeful smile.

“I didn’t tell you because as soon as I knew you felt the same way about me, I begged Bash to find some loophole in the engagement, something that could keep the harbor safe - and thus the boys financially sound - but also let me _finally_ propose to you the way it was intended. He couldn’t find anything-” Anne gave a barely audible whimper, lips tight together, “-but Christine did.” Anne blinked.

“What?”

“Sweetheart, Christine is pregnant. She’s in love herself, with a fellow name Andrew Dawson. I know the man, he works on one of the steamers that goes back and forth between the Glen and Kingsport. Her and I discussed it this evening during the party. Instead of her and I marrying now to cover up a potential defamation of her family’s name, I’m going to promote Andrew so that she might marry him. That is how her and I get to keep our right to love while protecting our family businesses. We ended the engagement a few hours ago.”

Anne’s mind was reeling. She clasped the arm of the chair to keep from toppling over, afraid that if she moved too quickly, everything from the last few minutes would vanish completely.

“And...you and I? What of us?” she asked in a strained voice.

“That’s your decision, Anne,” Gilbert assured gently. “But if you’ll let me, I will happily, eagerly, _completely_ love you and make you my partner through life. You can write and teach if that’s what you want, and I’ll be a doctor, and we’ll have the boys, Bash and Mary, and only love and happiness to speak of. I’m tired of living on someone else’s agenda.”

Completely bandaged, Anne reached out, placed her hands on Gilbert’s shoulder’s, and leaned her head into his chest. His arms came up around her, tracing star constellations into her back as she tried straighten out her mind. _Aquarius. Orion. Cassiopeia._

“I’m still furious that you lied to me,” she choked out, unable to swallow back any more tears.

“I know.” His own voice was just as choked. “I’m sorry Anne, you don’t know how much.”

She snuck her arms up, tugging him closer until she was completely wrapped up in his warmth, face tucked perfectly into the space of his neck. His apology had come from a genuine place inside of him, the place that she’d met the day she saved him and had fallen more and more in love with as each day passed. Here and now, with that piece of his soul breathing the same air as hers, she knew that this was good, this was what Fate had intended for them.

Suddenly, she remembered that day on the Avonlea cliffside, staring out at the sea. The ocean, the wind, the stars and clouds had all called out to her “He’s there!” over and over like a prayer whispered on the lips of a mother. Who was she, then, to let this man go? Who was she to go against the wishes of her own heart?

“I still can’t believe you charged into an armed man for me. You put your life in danger again for me. You  came back for me,” he whispered into her hair.

Anne pulled back, peered into his eyes, and answered him the only way she knew how.

“Yes, my love, I did it for you.”

Gilbert’s face crumpled then, the words affecting him the same way they affected her when he first spoke them. He released a sob on a laugh and nodded, because he knew what she was really saying - _Yes, my love, I forgive you._

“Will you stay then, Anne? Will you stay with me?” He’d never been so hopeful, so tender.

“Is that a formal proposal, Dr. Blythe?” she asked weakly, running the back of her fingers over the soft skin of his cheeks. He smiled, taking her beloved fingers and turning them so he could press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It is if you’d like it to be.”

Anne launched herself into his arms, sprinkling kisses on his face and hair and neck like dew descending on a field. Laughter exploded out of him in breathless bursts as he desperately tried to reciprocate each loving kiss. Finally, he caught her face and lifted it up to his, kissing her with a matchless adoration.

“How about this, Gil,” Anne suggested, tearing away so that only their noses and foreheads touched. “Let me go home to Avonlea, to part with it the way I should have. And then, when you’re ready, propose to me there, under the lacy blossoms of the White Way of Delight. We’ll walk along our beach, remember the day that brought us together. And when we’ve had our fill of memories, we’ll come home, here, to the Glen.”

Bliss filled Gilbert, radiating off of him in waves, and he took her back into is arms, sneaking in one last murmur before capturing her lips once more.

“As you wish it, Queen Anne.”

This was how it was supposed to be, they both thought at the same time - lips curved into smiles as they kissed, fears of the past gone and resolved forever, and the future as bright and full as the moon that bathed them in with its radiance.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you hopped directly to this chapter, make sure you hop back one so you don't spoil the ending!)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed along with this story and cheered me on, especially to Miss Alexis who was very patient about her bday present being written very late, in very small pieces! You all are the best and I appreciate all the love you sent my way. It is my sincere hope that you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Anne spent a week in Avonlea, boxing up all her belongings and answering hundreds of questions about the night of the charity ball. She began to recount the story so many times that more and more callers came to hear the tale of Anne and the madman. 

“Oh no,” she’d say with enduring patience, “It’s a story of a doctor, a madman, and forty-three loyal orphan boys.” 

“And you,” Mrs. Hiram Sloane interjected. Anne had bit her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. 

“Yes, and me.” 

It was that encounter that led Anne to decline taking future callers, instead spending that time in front of her typewriter. She’d come down for an hour or two every time her fingers began to cramp, curling up next to an indignant Marilla on the sofa and saying things like, “I do love you so, Marilla. You’ve done this hopeless harem scarem some good.”  

And Marilla’s hard exterior would melt away just long enough to reply, “You’ve done even more good for this cranky old maid.”  

But on this night, Anne had a pressing worry on her mind. 

“You’re not terribly upset that I’m leaving Green Gables to go live in the Glen?” 

Marilla sighed, eyes falling on the old chair Matthew used to sit in when he was alive. Though he was never very good at expressing his feelings, when it came to Anne, he never hesitated. He would understand if he was here now. 

“I always knew you’d have to leave sometime. After all, you’re a college graduate with your entire life ahead of you. At some point, we all must go out and seek our place in this world. Mine was with you, and now yours is in the Glen.” 

Anne caressed Marilla’s thin knuckles with a gentle thumb. 

“You’ll come and visit, won’t you? You’ll absolutely  _ love  _ the children and the house is beautiful! It’s got the sea on one side and the forest on the other. And Gil has been speaking with the staff about allowing me to redo the gardens myself for days when I need to be with myself and the island. There’s about a dozen guest rooms for your choosing and Mary plans the most extravagant meals. And-” 

“Anne,  _ of course  _ I’ll come and visit,” Marilla interrupted, not wanting Anne to spoil all the splendor of the Glen. “Do you suppose you’ll marry the doctor here or at the estate?” 

“We haven’t talked about it much since he hasn’t made his formal question yet, but he’s coming on the evening train.” Anne lounged back and turned her face to the setting set dripping in through the window. “If I had my way, we’d get married first here. Maybe out in the valley of Green Gables or in the Blythe Apple Orchard. We’ll have our closest family and friends, the spirit of the island, and the boys of course, and be married under the purple dawn.  _ Then,  _ we can go back to the Glen and have the big wedding his business circle will be expecting. I don’t suppose I’ll mind being a bride twice.” 

Before Anne could drift too far away into nuptial daydreams, Marilla took a sip of her tea. 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t arrived yet. Do you suppose the train was delayed?” 

“I can’t imagine why, though with how old the train master is getting, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe I’ll take a walk into town and see if he’s gotten himself lost or wrapped up in some sort of medical emergency.” Anne tugged on her heavy sweater, the cream knit perfect for blocking out the autumn chill. “On days like these, I’m so glad we live in a world where there are Octobers.” 

As Marilla watched her brave, beautiful young daughter cross the threshold of Green Gables, she could not help but feel as though a chapter was ending and soon the book would be closed. A calm breath filled her lungs as she smiled softly to herself. Perhaps the sequel would prove just as beloved. 

The island was at peak beauty, with every tree at its most vibrant orange and the White Way of Delight at its bloomiest. Silky smooth petals rained down with each dust of wind, catching in Anne’s auburn hair like snowflakes. She was content to walk along this beloved road, remembering all the wonderful times she’d had here, and all of the ones yet to come. She was lost in thought, mind trailing alongside her in the shadows and trees, when a study gentleman appeared at the end of the Avenue. 

The sight of Anne ambling happily along the road knocked the breath from him, making him pause to admire how lovely she was among all the warm colors of the autumn sunset. A stiff breeze carried her gaze to him, and the ethereal picture was broken, leaving Anne and only Anne. 

The queen dryad herself seemed to be drinking in every sweet detail of him - how fit he looked in his suspenders, the soft curls of his hair that she positively adored, and the sunny grin on his face that rivaled any smile she’d ever witness. She squealed and ran forward toward him, easily swept up in his waiting arms. He lifted her, holding her up and above him so that he might admire her. It wasn’t much unlike they were the day she saved him and every day since. 

“I’m so glad you made it!” she cried as he lowered her back onto the red roads. 

“I wouldn’t miss such a wonderful day with you for the world. Not when I have such an important question to ask.”  

“And what might that be, doctor?” she said lowly.

The whole Island held its baited breath as the doctor knelt down upon his knee, offered his love a small box containing a band of pearls, and offered himself to her. The trees stopped swaying, the birds paused their song, the breeze stood still. Then, with tears that dripped down the sides of her face and into the soil, Anne accepted and the Island rejoiced. The doctor took his betrothed into his arms and pulled her close. His kisses tasted like tears and cinnamon, hers of the sun. 

That night, celebration rang out all through Green Gables. In the morning, everything would tilt on a different axis and new paths would form in the earth, ready to be traversed. But for now, Anne, Gilbert, Marilla, and Rachel Lynde sat around the dining room table, exchanging stories of every kind until their stomachs and hearts were full. 

“I must say Doctor,” began Rachel in her know-all tone. “I’m now willing to admit that perhaps Anne was right raising her voice to me the day you washed up on our shore.” 

“He didn’t  _ wash up,  _ I jumped in after him!” Anne corrected teasingly. 

“Credit where credit is due, ma’am,” Gilbert agreed with a loyal smile to Anne.

“Well, I still think it’s ridiculous the amount of talk going around the Ladies Aid about _I wish it had been_ my _daughter to jump in the storm to save Dr. Blythe,”_ Marilla cut in, wiping the table with a damp rag. “Asking if the doctor has any _brothers,_ and if Anne intended to marry the man or not _._ ” 

Anne and Gilbert shared an amused smile. 

“Alas, Gil’s brother is married and I intend to marry the good doctor as soon as humanly possible.” 

“We could go get the preacher this evening,” Gilbert suggested when Rachel’s back was turned away, brushing his lips against her cheek. 

“Or you could wait through a full engagement period as is good and proper!” Rachel shot, sensing the loosening of propriety behind her. 

“Oh, do try not to get all twisted up Rachel, and give these two some solitude!” Marilla scolded from the doorway. She practically dragged the grumbling lady away by her ear, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone in the peace of the house. Within moments, they were side by side, hand in hand.

“I can’t wait to tell Diana,” Anne mused happily, pressing Gilbert’s calloused fingertips against her lips.

“She wasn’t very thrilled with me the last we saw each other,” he confessed. 

“Diana only wants what’s best for me. Her and I talked and we’re both in agreement.” 

“In my favor, I hope.” 

“Of course,” Anne laughed. She leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing down at the beautiful band of pearls on her ring finger. For once, the exchange wasn’t single sided. “I actually have something for you, if you’d like it.” 

Gilbert leaned to press a kiss to her cheek, smiling against all of her starry freckles. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed. His content eyes followed her as she crossed the room to the wooden secretary against the wall, from which she pulled a stack of papers tied together with straw ribbon on each side. She took a nervous breath, then handed him the ream of parchment. Gilbert accepted it anxiously, pushing aside the ribbon so he could make out the typewritten words across the front.

“Is this…?” he asked in awe. 

“Our story, yes,” Anne finished for him, anxious for is reaction. “I was tired of telling it over and over, and thought it might make an interesting subject for a book. I’ve had such a block of creative words this past year, but something about these last months has opened me right up. Of course, the manuscript is only half completed. I’ve only been home a week! But I wanted you to read it so that you knew what you meant to me. Maybe this could help those Saint Anthony boys too.” 

Gilbert had no words. He merely grazed his fingertips over the pages and admired how lovely the authorial name “Anne Shirley” appeared across the white title page. 

“I can’t wait to read it, sweetheart, thank you,” he said truly. A pleased smile lit Anne into pure light and she laughed. 

“You can read it on the train ride home tomorrow while I sleep! I’ve been up these past nights writing like a woman starved!”

They sat that way for some time, allowing the minutes to tick by on the clock until the clear sky overhead shone a sea full of stars. Green Gables kept them warm on this last night in the beloved home. Tomorrow would bring its own new adventures, of which Anne knew not their names. But the evening was for her and Gilbert alone. 

And so, until their candles had burned out, the two recounted all of their present blessings, looking forward to the ones that they could count come morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to come chat, come find me on tumblr - @royalcordelia ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna chat? I'm on tumblr - royalcordelia ♥


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